


How We Show Love - Ineffable Valentines 2020

by EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Temptation, ineffable valentines, mentions of madame tracy, mentions of the them, that got steamy there for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 37,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: For mielpetite's Ineffable ValentinesAlso on tumblr: EveningStarcatcher
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	1. Chocolate

“It’s a delightful display, don’t you think?” Aziraphale smiled and pointed into the shop window. He squeezed Crowley’s arm and dragged him closer.

“Sure, angel. It’s great.” Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses.

The shop was draped in shades of pink and red. Dark red curtains were pulled back at the edge of the window display and secured with wide gold cord. Large paper hearts were taped along the inside of the window, some made of glitter that reflected light in all directions, some of shiny paper that distorted reflections like a funhouse mirror, and some of plain matte paper. There were large paper doilies suspended from the ceiling by ribbons and crepe paper streamers twisted and taped up in swags. Strands of white lights hung in behind it all.

There were shelves covered with teddy bears of all sizes and colors as well as boxes of expensive chocolates. Beside the shelves sat a round table where fake candles flickered and a large vase of silk roses were displayed, rose petals strewn about across the lace tablecloth. It was all too much for Crowley’s taste. 

“Oh come now, dear. I think it’s quite charming, celebrating love with cards and flowers and chocolates!” Aziraphale inspected the chocolate selection, pressing his face to the glass to get a better look.

“You don’t need an excuse for chocolates,” Crowley tilted his head and looked at the angel, eyebrow cocked.

“But this is different, my dear!” Aziraphale straightened up.

“It’s just a day,” Crowley crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s such a special day, Crowley!” the angel spun to face him, blue eyes wide and imploring. “They set a day on the calendar every year to make sure their friends, family, and beloved all know how much they meant to them. They buy gifts and give cards with clever and romantic phrases and it’s all rather lovely!” 

“It’s corny and commercialized is what it is, but if you let me know what chocolates you’d like, I’ll surprise you with them later.” Crowley nodded to the window.

Aziraphale gently laid his hand on Crowley’s arm. 

“I’m sorry, dear. I rather thought you might feel differently about it this year after, well, after everything that happened.” Aziraphale took one last look at the display and turned away, heading down the sidewalk towards the bookshop.

“Oh,” Crowley asked, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“No worries, dear. I do think you might be right,” Aziraphale clasped his hand behind his back and Crowley gave him a side glance, not finding any hint of sadness or disappointment. “I think it’s far better to let your loved ones know that you care every day. The little ways we show love are just as meaningful as the grand gestures. And there’s no reason flowers, chocolates, and cards can’t be given any other day of the year. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, sure,” Crowley shrugged.

“Take you for example!” Aziraphale beamed.

“Nkg!” Crowley stopped outside the bookshop, waiting for Aziraphale to unlock the door.

“You have always been there for me, rescuing me, my books, taking me out to lovely meals, indulging me when I practice my magic act,” he chuckled and opened the door wide. “After you, my dear.”

Crowley entered with Aziraphale just behind him.

“What I’m trying to say is that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Forgive me for saying so, but you’ve always been so kind to me and I am very grateful.”

“S’nothing, angel.” Crowley flopped down onto the couch, sprawling out and tossing his glasses onto the small table.

“I’m afraid you’re quite wrong,” Aziraphale sat in his chair across from Crowley, clasping his hands in his lap, his gaze focused on them. “I know I was never able to be as open with my feelings as you were, but you were so patient with me. I do hope you know that I care for you very much, Crowley.” Aziraphale looked up and met Crowley’s eyes.

“I- I know, angel.” Crowley stuttered. “And I, uh, don’t think it’s all bad.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“I like the idea of it. It’s just too much.”

“Too much?”

“If it was just cards and flowers or thoughtful gifts that’d be nice, but now it’s all expensive jewelry and fancy dinners in crowded restaurants and teddy bears and so much sex.” Crowley threw his head against the armrest and draped his arm over his eyes. “Every year Hell gave me a commendation for the spike in lust, even though I never did anything! You’d think that after all these years Hell would realize that it was a recurring thing, same day every year, but no. Far too idiotic for that.” Crowley sighed loudly.

“So, you’d enjoy it if it were more simple? No jewelry or crowded restaurants?” Aziraphale pressed carefully.

“S’pose so.” Crowley dropped his arm and turned his head to look at Aziraphale, who had a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“That’s quite good to know.” he smirked.

“What are you planning?” Crowley pushed himself up to his elbows.

“Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“I know that look. You’re up to something. That’s the bastard look,” Crowley pointed a finger at him and narrowed his eyes.

“I do not have a _bastard_ look, Crowley.” Aziraphale pursed his lips for a moment before giving him a soft smile. “I just think it would be nice to join in on the tradition this year. That is, if you’re not opposed.”

“You just want chocolate, don’t you?” Crowley smirked.

“My _dear_,” Aziraphale huffed.

“Alright, alright. If you want to celebrate, we’ll celebrate.” Crowley raised a hand in surrender.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“Positive, angel. And you might want to check your desk drawer,” Crowley sat up and watched as Aziraphale gave him a questioning look and turned to his desk. He slid open the top drawer and gave a soft gasp. 

He pulled out a large square box, a deep red damask pattern and topped with a white and gold bow. A tag with a large pink heart on its front was dangling from the bow and read “To angel” in Crowley’s scrawling hand. Aziraphale set the box on his lap and carefully pulled the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful assortment of chocolates.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, running light fingers over the top of the sweets. They were all different shapes and sizes, some topped with sugar crystals, others with coconut, some had delicate designs etched into them, and others were drizzled with white chocolate. “These look…”

“Handmade, yeah. None of that mass produced stuff,” Crowley was fighting a smile.

“Did you…” 

“No miracle. I ordered them last week,” Crowley admitted.

“But you said…” Aziraphale was staring at him with an open mouth and heart eyes.

“Shut _uuuup_,” Crowley said without any heat behind it.

“Thank you my darling. These are lovely. Very thoughtful of you,” Aziraphale moved from his chair and sat beside Crowley on the couch. “Won’t you have one with me?” 

Aziraphale offered the box to Crowley, who took it and stared into it.

“I do believe these must be hazelnut,” Aziraphale pointed two two chocolates sprinkled with bits of nut. “Shall we try those first?”

“Why not?” Crowley carefully pulled one out and placed it into Aziraphale’s open palm, then took the other for himself. 

“Heavenly!” Aziraphale sighed as he bit into the sweet, leaving a streak of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.

Crowley leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss there, earning a small gasp from Aziraphale.

“Heavenly indeed.” He smirked.


	2. Roses

The day was grey and dreary. Rain was drizzling down and Aziraphale left the bookshop sign flipped to “CLOSED”, choosing to spend the day with a mug of cocoa and a good book. 

Crowley was dozing on the couch, his steady breathing and the gentle patter of rain a soothing soundtrack for reading.

Aziraphale settled into his chair. He loved days like this. Days he could spend inside, with all of his favorite things. A nice mug of cocoa that will warm him from the inside, a book that he can get lost in, the cozy and familiar interior of the bookshop, and his dear Crowley napping just a few feet from him. Aziraphale’s heart felt full as he looked at Crowley’s sleeping form, all long, sleek lines, black fabric, and red hair.

“I’m so glad you feel comfortable here, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered,. “This may be my home, but it doesn’t feel complete without you here.” He looked a moment more, then kissed his hand and blew it towards Crowley. He giggled at himself, feeling a bit foolish for the act, but gave Crowley one more look, then opened his book.

They spent the next few hours this way. The only noises were the shuffle of a turning page, a small murmur of Crowley in his sleep, and the steady ticking of the Grandfather clock.

Aziraphale was surprised when he heard a knock at the door. It was so faint that at first he didn’t hear it, but the second time it managed to pull his attention out of the pages before him. He carefully placed a bookmark to hold his place, set the book on the desk, and hurried to the door.

He unlocked the bolt and opened the door to find a delivery man holding a clipboard in one hand and a pot in the other.

“Delivery for Mr. Fell,” the man said, dressed in shades of brown and tan, the company logo proudly displayed on his shirt and cap. “Please sign.”

“Thank you very much,” Aziraphale smiled, signing his name on the clipboard and taking the pot from him. “Have a nice day.”

“You too, sir. Thank you, sir.” The delivery man smiled before turning and striding back to his van.

Aziraphale took a look at the grey sky and saw that there was no sign of the rain stopping. That didn’t bother him, he was having a lovely day.

He closed and locked the door and returned to the backroom. He set the pot down on the floor to his right and swept the book up again. 

He was lost in the pages again, soaking up every word and feeling printed there. The handsome hero, who, despite the written descriptions was tall, thin, and redheaded, was sweeping the beautiful lady, blonde haired and blue eyed, off her feet. He brought her flowers, he spoke tender words, and he dashed in and saved her from the villain in the nick of time, earning her love and her hand in marriage! 

Aziraphale giggled to himself, remembering the Bastille. Crowley’s hair had been terribly dreadful, but he had been there to rescue him, had even agreed to have lunch with him. He remembered that night during the Blitz when Crowley had braved consecrated ground to find Aziraphale and save him from the Nazis. He had remembered to save Aziraphale’s beloved books from the bomb while Aziraphale was focused on saving their corporations.

He also remembered how cruel the words he had used with Crowley were. They echoed in his mind and created knots in his stomach.

_ You go too fast for me, Crowley. _

_ We’re not having this conversation. Not another word! _

_ Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’d been...fraternizing? _

_ I don’t even like you. _

_ There is no our side, Crowley. Not anymore. _

_ It’s over. _

He wiped a tear from his eye at the memories of all the pain he had caused Crowley over the years. It could have been over so many times. Crowley could have simply walked away and never sauntered back into his life again. He was so patient with Aziraphale, so generous and kind.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley was sitting up, eyes barely open.

“Nothing, my dear. Go back to sleep,” Aziraphale set the book down on the desk.

“No, m’done sleeping. Why are you crying?” Crowley knelt down in front of Aziraphale, setting his hands on his thighs.

“I was thinking about us. About all the terrible, hurtful things I said to you and how you always came back even after I pushed you away,” Aziraphale placed his hands over Crowley’s and closed his eyes, fighting the tears that pooled there.

“I knew you didn’t mean it. I knew the grip Heaven had on you and I never blamed you. Not once,” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hands.

“I should have chosen you. You were the one who was always there for me, the one who cared for me when Heaven turned its back on me. I’m so sorry, my dear.” Aziraphale slumped forward, his head resting on top of Crowley’s.

“You want to know what I remember?” Crowley asked, his thumbs rubbing circles against Aziraphale’s thighs. He felt Aziraphale nod against his head. “I remember you protecting me from the rain in the garden, inviting me to lunch in Rome, agreeing to the Arrangement, giving me the holy water, despite your better judgement. I remember every time you were worried about Holy Water destroying me, each time you told me I was kind. I remember when you forgave me. Those are the things I remember. Yes, the other things you said hurt, but you always reminded me that you cared, that you didn’t mean what you said, that they were just words you used when you were afraid that Heaven would hurt you.”

“Or you,” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s hair.

“But they can’t. They tried and failed and here we are,” Crowley shifted his head and cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks in his hands, wiping his tears away.

“Here we are,” Aziraphale gave a weak smile.

“You have forgiven me, Aziraphale. Please forgive yourself,” Crowley said softly.

At this, Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and slid down to the floor beside him. He held Crowley close, breathing in the earthy, smoky scent of him and feeling his heart beating against his chest.

“You’re quite right, dear,” he said after a few minutes. “If you’ve forgiven me, I should forgive myself. Release the fear and the guilt and start anew.”

“Yes, angel,” Crowley ran his fingers through his pale curls. “Never had to forgive you, though.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale sat back and gave Crowley a bright smile.

Crowley pressed a kiss to the angel’s forehead and moved to stand up, but something caught his eye.

“What’s that?” he asked, inclining his head to the floor behind Aziraphale.

“Oh! Well, I was planning to save it, but this seems like a good time!” Aziraphale shuffled on his knees to the pot and brought it over.

“It’s for you,” Aziraphale beamed and handed it to Crowley.

Crowley took the pot in his hands and smiled. It was a small bush of hybrid tea roses sporting deep red blossoms as well as white.

“I was sure to get the bush, so you can plant it. I thought you might not like the cut ones, since they’d die. This way you can cultivate it and be reminded of me every time you see it.” Aziraphale explained, running a finger lovingly over the soft petals of a red rose.

“It’s beautiful,” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and placed a gentle kiss to it, earning him a blush on his pale cheeks. “Thank you. Although, I don’t need flowers to make me think of you.”

“I should hope not, but I thought they were lovely and I wanted you to have them.”

“Too cold to plant it now. Where should I put it until the ground thaws?” Crowley asked, glancing around the room.

“I believe they like a lot of sun, so how about right here in the window?” Azirphale gestured to an empty spot on the sill. “Not much sun today, but I’ve heard the forecast is supposed to be nice this week.”

Crowley gently placed the pot in its place and stepped back, offering a hand to Aziraphale and pulling him to his feet.

“It’s perfect.” Crowley wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and held him tight as they smiled at the small roses.


	3. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how to write poetry, so please forgive me!

“Are you done yet, angel?” Crowley called from the back room.

“Nearly! I'm sure I’m nearly there!” Aziraphale was in the shop, going through stack after stack of books. He was looking for one specific book. He was sure he had set it aside, so as not to lose it, but he and recently pulled dozens of books off the shelves for maintenance or rereading and now he wasn’t at all sure where it was. “Where are you?” He muttered to himself.

“Need some help?” Crowley was standing in the doorway of the back room, hip cocked against the doorframe, his red hair perfectly tousled.

“I suppose I do,” Aziraphale sighed in defeat.

“What does it look like?” Crowley asked, looking over the spines in the pile closest to him.

“I believe it’s red with white writing. Or was it white with red writing? Or perhaps I’m thinking of the wrong book. It could be blue, or was it black?” Aziraphale furrowed his brow in thought. He couldn’t remember which book he was describing.

“Angel,” Crowley was standing and smirking at a book laying next to the till. “Is it the one with the sticky note that reads _ For Tracy _?”

“Yes!” Azirpahale beamed, the creases around his eyes becoming more prominent, something Crowley adored. “Thank you so much, dear! I should have asked for your help ages ago!” Aziraphale bustled to the desk, inspected the book, then shifted up to his tiptoes to kiss Crowley on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Good think you’ll never have to find out,” Crowley teased.

“It is a good thing.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft and warm as he gave the demon a look so full of love that Crowley almost blushed.

“Hurry up, angel. If we wait much longer it’ll mess with our dinner delivery.”

“Of course!” Aziraphale swept up the book and bustled about, wrapping it up in red paper, tying it up with a nice white ribbon, signing the card, and placing it all in the padded envelope Crowley had picked up for him. He printed the address on the front, sealed it, and held it out to Crowley. “All done! Thank you for your patience, dear.”

“Yeah,” Crowley rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile at the compliment. Those flowed freely these days, had done since shortly after the world didn’t end, and Crowley soaked each one in. They both did, finally able to speak their minds, and hearts, openly and without fear. “Be right back,” Crowley slithered towards the door. 

Once Aziraphale heard the Bentley speed away from the shop, he went to his desk and pulled out an envelope. It was made of parchment, the weight and texture reassuring in his hand. He wasn’t sure how it would be received, but he was optimistic. He took his pen in his hand and wrote a name in his most elegant script, curving and swirling across the parchment.

He admired it, nodded to himself, and propped it up against a bottle of wine on the table in the backroom.

Once that was done, he moved back out to the shop to reorganize the piles of books he’d disturbed during his search, but was distracted by a lovely book of love poems. He settled on the floor next to the pile, cross legged, and began to read just one poem.

Ten pages later Azirphale startled at the sound of the front door swinging open, bell jingling. 

“M’back! Didn’t miss me too much, did ya?” Crowley sauntered in, then stopped and looked around. “Angel?” he called, not seeing him.

“Just here, dear!” Azirphale called and waved a hand to him.

“What’re you doing down there?” Crowley asked, slithering down to sit beside Aziraphale and his pile of forgotten books.

“I was trying to tidy up, but became rather distracted.” He admitted, holding up the book in his hands.

“Love poems?” Crowley cocked an eyebrow.

“I almost sent this volume to Madame Tracy, but couldn’t part with it. The one I chose is just as lovely, though.” 

“Why did you send her a book of poems anyway?” Crowley asked, taking the book from Aziraphale and flipping through its pages.

“It was a Valentine’s gift. I thought she’d enjoy the poems, especially now that she’s giving love advice instead of _intimate personal relaxation and stress relief for the discerning gentleman_.” Aziraphale tried to hide a smile, thinking of the woman who had been so kind as to give him a ride to the end of the world. He wouldn’t be here, in his corporation, if not for her and he would be forever grateful. For his first time possessing someone, she was the most gracious and understanding host.

“That’s nice,” Crowley handed the book back to Aziraphale.

“Just a small token, really.”

“It’s the thought that counts though, right? You didn’t have to think of her all, but you did. Gave her a book from your collection, even wrapped it up and made sure she’d have it before Valentine’s Day. You really are a romantic,” Crowley teased.

“And you aren’t? With all those romantic meals we shared, picking me up and walking me to the door after, no one would believe that you were a downright sap!” Azirphale laughed at the horrified look on Crowley’s face. “Come, dear. It’s not a bad thing. Quite the opposite!” He pressed his hand to Crowley’s cheek. “I do love that you’re quite sweet under all your layers of cynicism and indifference.”

“Am not!” Crowley swatted him away, hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Azirphale opened the book in his lap and began to read:

_ Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? _

“Shakespeare, of course,” Crowley groaned playfully, removing his glasses and tucking them away in his pockets. His eyes were staring at Aziraphale’s hands holding the book.

“Hush dear,” Azirpahale chided gently. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

_ Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
_ _ Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
_ _ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
_ _ And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
_ _ Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
_ _ And often is his gold complexion dimmed,  
_ _ And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
_ _ By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:  
_ _ But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
_ _ Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,  
_ _ Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
_ _ When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,  
_ _ So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  
_ _ So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. _

“Let me see,” Crowley reached for the book, but Aziraphale clutched it to his chest. 

“Do you mind if we move this to the back room? I’m afraid I’ve been sitting here for a while,” Aziraphale grimaced as he shifted, the floor hard against his bottom, his legs stiff and groaning.

“F’course, angel,” Crowley sprang up and offered Aziraphale his hands and pulled the angel swiftly to his feet.

“Thank you,” Azirpahale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s hand and strode into the back room. He moved toward his chair, but Crowley wrapped an around around him and pulled him down the couch, settling him in his lap. Aziraphale smiled and let himself be held, wrapping his arms around Crowley's waist.

“Can I see the book now?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale handed it over and Crowley kept one hand around Aziraphale, the other held the book out so he could read from it.

_ It’s all I have to bring today—  
_ _ This, and my heart beside—  
_ _ This, and my heart, and all the fields—  
_ _ And all the meadows wide—  
_ _ Be sure you count—should I forget  
_ _ Some one the sum could tell—  
_ _ This, and my heart, and all the Bees  
_ _ Which in the Clover dwell. _

“Emily Dickinson,” Aziraphale murmured against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” Crowley hummed, running a hand through blonde curls.

“Lovely, dear,” he smiled softly at his partner, then shifted so he could speak without being muffled. “I have one more, if you don’t mind,” Aziraphale settled his head against Crowley’s shoulder and took a breath.

_ In the beginning there was nothing  
_ _ Then life sprang forth from her hand  
_ _ Creation began with light into dark  
_ _ A spark no one can ever understand _

_ Though light was brought into the world  
_ _ And life was given, a garden to thrive  
_ _ Water and land, creatures great and small   
_ _ But what does it mean to be truly alive _

_ Hands that created and formed all the stars  
_ _ Painting bright colors into the nothingness  
_ _ lips of temptation, curious golden eyes   
_ _ Pulled forth feelings instructed to suppress _

_ Gravitational pull, the arrangement agreed,  
_ Wine, meals, the theatre, a nice museum view,  
_ My life all encompassed in laughter and grins,  
_My dearest friend, Crowley, I do so love you

Aziraphale recited, his head pressed to Crowley’s chest, his eyes squeezed shut. He could feel Crowley’s heart beating, but the demon was motionless, silent.

The silence hung for a few long moments before Aziraphale pulled back to look at Crowley.

His golden eyes were closed, a tear falling down his cheek.

“Crowley, are you alright?” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he wiped the tear away.

“You wrote that for me?” Crowley opened his eyes to meet Aziraphale’s, who simply nodded. “I didn’t know you wrote poetry.”

“Sometimes. I’m not nearly as eloquent as Emily or William, but I wanted you to know that you inspire me. You’re always challenging me and supporting me and making me better, or possibly worse…”

Crowley chuckled at that. “Definitely worse.”

“My dear,” Azirapahle pulled himself back against Crowley’s chest, “you do know how much I care, don’t you?”

“Yes, angel.”

“That I love you desperately and completely?” Aziraphale pressed.

“Nkg!” Crowley’s voice failed, letting out only a noise, pressing his face into soft curls. “I love you too. Just don’t make me write a poem about it. It would only make you blush.”

"I look forward to it," Aziraphale dropped his voice, then chuckled. "In the meantime, I wrote the poem out for you. It's in the envelope on the table, so you can read it anytime."

"You really are an angel, aren't you?" Crowley smiled and pressed kisses along Aziraphale's forehead, his eyes resting on the parchment envelope with the words "Crowley - my dearest love" sweeping across it.


	4. Tease

The bookshop had been busy all day. Couples wandered in, mitten-less hands clasped despite the cold, collectors coming in to pick up books that Azirapahle had tracked down for them, and most often, people ducking in out of the cold.

The sky was clear, but the wind was severe and biting, driving people inside shops they didn’t usually frequent. 

Crowley had begged Aziraphale to keep the shop closed that morning, but the angel had simply kissed him on the cheek and set about for opening.

“Please, angel,” Crowley followed him around the shelves.

“Crowley, I have to be open sometime!” Aziraphale tutted, moving a few books around on the shelves.

“Why today?” Crowley’s tone was heading dangerously towards a whine.

“What’s wrong with today?” Aziraphale asked, disappearing around the corner.

“Can I at least have a kiss, then?” Crowley followed Aziraphale and leaned against the shelf beside him.

“Of course, dear.” Aziraphale smiled, his blue eyes glittering, then kissed Crowley on the tip of his nose and bounded off.

“That doesn’t count,” Crowley groaned.

“You didn’t specify, love!” Aziraphale chuckled as the bell rang for the first time that day.

The shop was packed now, people milling about and tripping over the piles of books that littered the floor. Aziraphale flitted and fretted about the shop, doing his best to dissuade purchases and protect the books from the hands of the unworthy.

“Oh dear, please don’t touch that one! Oh no, that doesn’t belong there. I most definitely cannot part with that one. I’m afraid you simply cannot afford that one!” He bustled around the room scooping up volumes that had been pulled from shelves, saved a particularly old tome from a child about to sneeze on it, and ushered a couple out after they were feeling particularly amorous and were knocking books off of shelves.

“Alright, everyone. The till’s broken, so we can’t process any purchases, but feel free to take a cup of hot cocoa or coffee before you go,” Crowley emerged from the backroom carrying a large tray with paper cups, plastic spoons, and two large carafes.

Aziraphale sighed in relief and beamed at Crowley, rushing over to pull out a small table to set the tray on.

“Yes, thank you! Please, warm yourself with a nice hot beverage. I do apologize for the inconvenience,” Aziraphale and Crowley worked to hand out cups of coffee and cocoa.

“Oh, dear, do you know if we have any milk?” Aziraphale asked, turning to Crowley.

“Dunno, I’ll check,” he gave Aziraphale a wink from behind his glasses, knowing that they didn’t, and turned to peck Aziraphale on the lips, but the angel moved his head at the last minute and Crowley caught his cheek.

“Thank you so much, dear.” The angel wore a devilish grin and turned back to the line of people waiting for warm drinks. 

Crowley returned from the backroom with a jug of milk a few moments later and tried once again to get a kiss from Aziraphale, but was once again denied. Crowley grimaced, then set about dispensing drinks as quickly as he could. Perhaps once the shop was empty he could get that kiss. He wasn’t sure what game the angel was playing, but he was sure he’d win it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of hot drinks and grateful ‘thank you’s. When there were just a couple of browsers left in the shop, Crowley pulled Aziraphale into the backroom. 

“Alright, angel, I’ve been waiting all day. Can I have that kiss now?” Crowley’s voice was low and tempting.

“Of course dear!” Aziraphale smiled and kissed him on the cheek and bounded off.

“No, Aziraphale! C’mon, angel!” Crowley crossed his arms and growled.

When the clock struck closing, Aziraphale kindly escorted the last of the customers out and flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED, locking up with a swift flick of his wrist. He tidied a few stacks of books and found himself jumpy, wondering where Crowley had gone to. He had been near Aziraphale’s side all day and now the shop was silent and there was no sign of the demon. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called. When no reply came he peeked into the back room and was relieved to find a familiar shock of red hair. “Oh, there you are.”

Crowley was draped rather fetchingly over the sofa, the long lines of his body stretched out, his face wrapped in a smile that made Aziraphale’s heart race. 

“Hey, angel. All closed up?” Crowley kept his tone casual and licked his lips.

“Yes, dear. All closed up,” Aziraphale swallowed hard.

“Good. Want to come over here?” Crowley held his arms open in invitation.

“I don’t think I will. Lots of work left to do.” He turned and headed back to the shop.

“Seriously, angel? What’s going on?” Crowley jumped up and slumped after the angel.

“Nothing at all, dear. Just working. Shall we get dinner in a little while? You can pick the restaurant,” Aziraphale was shelving books, carrying them between the stacks in a tottering pile. 

“I don’t want dinner, I want a damn kiss, Aziraphale!” Crowley cried, exasperated.

“Oh, is that all?” Aziraphale’s smile rivaled Crowley’s own mischievous grin.

“That’s it,” Crowley growled, his golden eyes alight. “Get over here!” He sprinted towards Aziraphale, who yelped and dropped the books in his arms, dashing away. The two ran around the shop, weaving their way between the shelves.

“Please dear, stop!” Aziraphale laughed as he ran, delighted.

“I don’t think so, not until I get what I want.” Crowley growled, grinning from ear to ear.

“You could just ask nicely, you know!” Aziraphale peeked out from behind a shelf and met Crowley’s eyes, eliciting another yelp before taking off again.

“Tried that, didn’t work. Someone was being a  _ tease _ .” Crowley slithered around the shop calmly while Aziraphale dashed and clattered around gracelessly.

“I am not a tease, Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded.

“You most certainly are, angel.”

“Alright, maybe a bit, but it really isn’t my fault it’s so much fun! Especially knowing that when I’m caught, it’s you who will be waiting for me!” Aziraphale was watching him from across the room, his breath heaving, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Angel, you look absolutely scrumptious,” Crowley purred. “Why not give up, just let it be over. I’d much rather take your breath away somehow that involves much less running,” Crowley smirked.

“Oh, Crowley! You menace!” Aziraphale threw his head back in laughter. This gave Crowley just the right excuse to dash over and crash into his angel.

He wrapped one arm around him, while the other guided them to the end of a shelf. There, he pinned Aziraphale and stood nose-to-nose. 

“Gotcha,” he purred.

“So you have,” Aziraphale blushed, his hands settling on Crowley’s chest.

“Why have you been teasing me all day?”

“I thought it might be exciting,” Aziraphale admitted with a deepening blush.

“You dirty angel,” Crowley laughed long and loud. 

“Was it? Exciting, I mean,” Aziraphale asked, studying Crowley’s face.

“Yes!” Crowley exclaimed. “You’ve been driving me wild all day. If you don’t let me kiss you right now, I may discorporate!” He narrowed his eyes and tried to look menacing, but Aziraphale found it rather endearing.

“Well, we couldn’t have that now, could we?” the angel’s voice was low and surprisingly sultry.

Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale on the forehead, then the cheek, then along the jawline, the tip of his nose, teasing at the edge of his pink lips.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whined playfully. 

“This is what you did to me all day, angel. You can wait another minute,” Crowley chuckled.

“I most certainly will not!” Aziraphale bunched his hands in Crowley’s shirt and pulled him flush against him, their mouths crashing together, Crowley bracing his free hand against the shelf. Crowley tightened his hold around the angel’s waist and Aziraphale’s hands moved up and over Crowley’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around him.

“Worth the wait?” Aziraphale said against Crowley’s warm lips.

“Definitely.”


	5. Hearts

“Crowley, dear, may I ask you for a favor?” They were in the Bentley, heading back to the bookshop after a delightful dinner at an authentic Italian restaurant. The Panna cotta had been particularly delicious. Azirpahale insisted Crowley try a bite, holding a spoon over the table until Crowley obliged. It was sweet and smooth against his tongue, but the best part was the way Aziraphale’s face lit up when he saw Crowley smile, sharing in the small beauties of earth together.

“What is it?” Crowley asked, turning a sharp left and laughing at the angel’s yelp.

“Crowley!” He braced himself against the roof and the dashboard. 

“Sorry,” Crowley shot him a wink. “What’s the favor?”

“I was thinking about what you said. How sending the book to Madame Tracey was kind and I thought we, er, I should spread a little more of that kindness.” Aziraphale stared dreamily out the window.

“That’s nice. I fit into this how?” Crowley pulled to a stop in front of the bookshop in his usual parking spot.

“I was hoping you’d help,” Aziraphale looked hopefully at Crowley.

“What are we doing?” Crowley sighed.

“I’ll show you!” Aziraphale threw open the door and jumped out, pulling his keys out of his pocket and opening the door. Crowley followed, swinging the door shut behind him and stopping a few steps into the shop

There was a table set up in the middle of the shop covered in paper in shades of white, cream, pink, and red, as well as paper doilies, markers and pens in a variety of colors and styles, as well as glue sticks, stickers, and a hot glue gun.

“Angel, please tell me we’re not _ crafting _.” Crowley removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

“We’re making valentine cards for the children!” Aziraphale wiggled excitedly.

“Doilies? Really, angel?” Crowley held up one of the paper lace rounds in disgust.

“Oh, Crowley, it’s traditional!” Aziraphale pouted, pulling the doily from Crowley’s long fingers. 

“Don’t be mad, angel,” Crowley purred, pulling aziraphale into his arms. “I’ll help, but I need something in return.” 

“Like what?” Aziraphale blushed.

“Hmm, maybe something like this.” Crowley sounds Aziraphale into a deep dip and kissed him soundly, his arms sturdy and safe around his angel. Aziraphale sighed against his lips and tousled Crowley’s hair.

“That’ll do,” Crowley set aziraphale on his feet, “for now. How do we do this?”

“It looks like great fun! Here, let me show you!” 

Aziraphale cut heartsick different sizes out of the red and cream paper and layered them on the paper doily. He carefully piped a line of glue along the edge and sprinkled on a dusting of gold glitter, tapping the excess back into the glitter tub. 

“Now that has to dry before I can add the message. Want to give it a go?” Aziraphale held the scissors out to Crowley. 

“Fine,” Crowley conceded. “But if anyone finds out that I was _ crafting _, I may have to borrow that flaming sword of yours.” 

Aziraphale tutted and rolled his eyes, handing Crowley a stack of paper. “Just try, dear. It’s fun!”

“_ Ffffun _,” Crowley muttered, but took the paper and grabbed a pair of scissors.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley created his card. He muttered to himself and scowled all the while, but he worked carefully, meticulously, long fingers working quickly and precisely. 

Aziraphale sipped at his tea while he watched Crowley work, hunched over the table.

When he finally sat up, he held out the card to Aziraphale.

“It’s lovely! Oh, such detail!” Aziraphale cooed and admired the work.

“S’just a card,” Crowley shrugged.

“Who would you like to send it to?” Aziraphale asked. “There are five children we’re sending cards to. You can have the first pick.” He smiled and handed the card back to Crowley.

“Oh, well, then we need to make more, yeah? Let’s make them and then decide.” Crowley suggested, setting his card aside.

“Inspired idea, my dear!” Aziraphale beamed and sat at the table next to Crowley

As the two resumed their work Crowley snapped his fingers and the gramophone sprang to life. The joyful sounds of brass drifted over the bookshop, followed by a voice, smooth and clear.  
  


_ Someday, when I’m awfully low _

_ And the world is cold _

_ I will feel a glow just thinking of you _

_ And the way you look tonight _

“Frank Sinatra? I didn’t know you were a fan,” Azirapahle looked at him, head tilted to one side.

“S’fine if you like romantic stuff,” Crowley muttered, his head down, trying to hide his smile.

“Yes, if you like romantic stuff,” Aziraphale repeated with a chuckle. “I for one think it’s the perfect soundtrack for the holiday. Thank you, dear.” He reached to the side and placed his hand over Crowley’s squeezing gently.

“Welcome,” Crowley caught Aziraphale’s hand as he tried to pull it back, and pressed a kiss to his palm, golden eyes staring into blue in the way that made Aziraphale’s breath catch.

“Dear, we have work to do. No distractions,” he scolded with a smile.

“Whatever you say,” Crowley winked and returned to his work.

A short time later the completed cards were dry and ready for the messages to be written.

“Which one for Adam?” Aziraphale held up two cards for Crowley to choose from. 

“That one,” he gestured to the left. “Send the other to Warlock.”

“Oh yes, I quite agree! Would you like to fill out Warlock’s?” Aziraphale offered it to him.

“Sure,” Crowley took it and stared at it. “What are we even supposed to say? Hey, it’s Nanny here. I’m actually a demon and we raised you by accident, but good news! The world didn’t end, so Happy Valentine’s Day and sorry your dad sucks?”

“My dear,” Azirapahle sighed softly. “I do believe something along the lines of ‘thinking of you. Happy Valentines Day, love Nanny’ would be more appropriate.” Aziraphale handed him a red glitter pen.

“Glitter? Really?” Crowley cocked and eyebrow.

“It’s festive! You can use another,” Azirapahle waved him off, too happy to be bothered.

When the cards had been signed, placed into envelopes, and addressed, the angel and the demon settled onto the couch in the backroom with a bottle of wine.

“Thank you for _ crafting _with me,” Aziraphale said with that bastard grin of his.

“S’only cause I love you,” Crowley lay his head against Aziraphale’s.

“I know, dear. I love you, too.” Aziraphale settled into Crowley’s side.

“That reminds me,” Crowley reached his arm behind his back and pulled out an envelope covered with heart stickers. “Here.” He offered it to Aziraphale, who took it, a silly grin spreading over his face.

“For me?” Aziraphale carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a card. “This was the first one you made, isn’t it?” He turned it over in his hands, admiring the delicate details.

“Yeah. You liked it, so I saved it for you,” Crowley hid a blush in his wine glass, taking a healthy gulp.

“Darling, you’re really quite sweet you know.” Aziraphale turned the card over to read the note. “My angel, I have loved you since we stood on the wall of Eden and you told me you gave away your flaming sword. I loved you through every war and famine and plague and flood, every bounty and era of peace, every time of growth and harmony. I loved you through the threat of Armageddon and I will love you until the world finally does end and long beyond.” He sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye. 

“Angel, no crying.” Crowley cupped his face in his hands.

“Tears of joy, my love.” Aziraphale smiled as another tear ran down his cheek. Crowley leaned forward and stopped it with his lips.


	6. Perfect Date

The phone rang. It was early evening, grey and cold and snowy, so the two were settled in the couch in the backroom. Aziraphale sat reading, his spectacles perched on his nose, while Crowley lounged across his lap, curled up against aAziraphale’s chest and scrolling through his phone.

“Ignore it,” Crowley put a hand to Aziraphales chest. 

“Dear, I can’t do that.” Aziraphale tutted and closed his book. “Please move.”

“Just leave it!” Crowley protested.

“What if it’s important?” Azirpahale tried to scoop Crowley up and place him on the couch beside him, but the snake wriggled his way out, standing in front of the couch.

“Fine, I’ll get it. You better be in the exact same spot when I get back,” he pointed at Aziraphale with emphases and crossed to the phone in a few very long, and very irritated, strides.

“Hello? Oh, bookshop, we’re closed.” He heard aziraphale gasp from the other room he grimaced and a soft voice responded over the receiver.

“Erm, hello. I’m looking for a Mr. Aziraphale.” The voice was wibbly, nervous.

“He’s unavailable, can I take a message?” Crowley put on his best secretary voice and pulled over a pad of paper and pen for good measure. 

“Oh, okay. Erm, yes. This is Newt, Newton Pulsifer from, well, from the airbase and I need some advice.”

Crowley scribbled the note and waved his hand, sending the note fluttering to the air and into Aziraphale’s lap.

“Anything else?” Crowley asked.

“I suppose that’s it. Should I leave my number so he can call back?” Newt asked.

“No need for that.” Azirpahale had appeared at Crowley’s side and he snatched the receiver from the demon's hand. “Hello Newton, it’s so nice to hear from you. How can I help?”

Crowley scowled at him, then lounged against the nearest solid surface to listen.

“Oh, I see. Yes, that is a dilemma. Well, I should consult with Crowley first. That sounds lovely! Tomorrow it is! Cheerio!” Azirpahale chatted animatedly, his face showing a series of emotions that ended with a huge grin as he replaced the receiver in its cradle.

“What have you gotten us into now?” Crowley groaned, his arms crossed.

“I’ll need a lift to Tadfield tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a quick apologetic smile and strode back into the backroom, hands clasped behind his back.

The next morning, they were on the road by late morning, the Bentley cruising down the road at an alarming speed after their detour for a leisurely brunch.

“So, what exactly are we doing? You still haven’t told me,” Crowley was grumpy today, but seemed content to have somewhere outside London to drive, so he was only mildly so.

“We’re helping young Newton with something terribly important!” Aziraphale has that dreamy look on his face that he always had right before Crowley did something he didn’t want to do.

“What?” He snapped his fingers in front of Aziraphale’s nose to bring him back to reality.

“Well, you see, Newton wants to do something special for Valentine’s Day, but Anathema said she’d rather do something any other day of the year, so he’s asked for our help to plan the perfect non-valentine’s date.” Aziraphale beamed out the window, his hand over his heart.

“You’re such a sap!” Crowley groaned.

“You love me anyway,” Azirpahale smirked.

“Remind me why?” He wrapped around the angel’s waist and pulled him closer, capturing Aziraphle’s lips with his own. Aziraphale melted into the kiss for a moment before remembering that they were hurtling down country roads at over 100 miles per hour.

“Crowley! The road!” He turned Crowley’s head back to the front and wiggled himself out of the demon’s grip.

“Relax, angel,” Crowley soothed with just a hint of trouble in his voice.

They arrived at Jasmine cottage just after noon. The sun was high in the blue sky and the promise of spring already whispered in the breeze.

Newt threw the door open before Crowley could knock twice.

“Thank you for coming!” He was completely disheveled. His hair stood out at all angles and his shirt was rumpled and buttoned incorrectly. “Please, come inside.” He stood back, allowing his guests to pass by. “Anathema will be back in a few hours, so we’ll have to be done by then. Can we do that?” Newt followed them into the sitting room and paced as Crowley spread out on the couch and Azirphale stood awkwardly in front of a wingback chair.

“Please, sit!” Newt gestured emphatically when he noticed Aziraphale’s hesitation. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea or coffee or anything at all?”

“We’re quite fine, dear,” Aziraphale settled into the chair. “ We’re eager to get started though. What have you planned so far?” 

“Nothing!” Newt fell into another chair and buried his face in his hands. 

“Nothing at all?” Aziraphale looked distressed for the poor man.

“I’m useless at this! I can’t decide if my ideas are brilliant or boring.” Newt peered up at them with wide brown eyes that pleaded. “That’s why I need your help.”

“What does she like?” Crowley asked.

“There was that one book,” Aziraphale suggested.

“That was a family thing,” Newt explained.

“Is there another family heirloom?” Azirpahale considered.

“Eh, I don’t think that’d be a good idea. Our ancestors didn’t exactly get along,” Newt’s shoulders sagged.

“Not to worry, we’ll find something lovely, I’m sure of it!” Azirphale wiggled and grinned at Newt who smiled weakly back, but seemed to believe him.

“Stand tall, that’s it. Puff your chest just a bit. Very good!” The three were standing now, the furniture pushed towards the outer edge of the room. Azirphale was giving Newt a dance lesson. How they settled on dancing being the perfect date for Anathema, Crowley didn’t understand, but he supposed that she was pretty open to anything and would enjoy doing anything with Newt, so it should be fine.

“Where did you guys learn to dance?” Newt asked as Aziraphale positioned his arms into a proper hold.

“Just picked it up over the years,” Crowley replied with an amused look at Aziraphale.

“Quite right, now the basic count is 1-2-3…”

The dance lesson went surprisingly well for someone who didn’t seem to have very much coordination. Something about the frame seemed to make him feel confident in taking the lead. Aziraphale was also a very complimentary and patient teacher. Newt was waltzing in no time.   
The dance lesson went surprisingly well for someone who didn’t seem to have very much coordination. Something about the frame seemed to make him feel confident in taking the lead. Aziraphale was also a very complimentary and patient teacher. Newt was waltzing in no time. He advanced from the basic step to learn a proper bow, how to spin his partner three ways, and even a dip. They were so engrossed in the lesson that they didn’t hear the front door.

“Newt?” Anathemas voice rang out. Crowley shut off the music.

“Just a minute!” Newt’s eyes were wide and he was frozen.

“Go say hello, tell her we popped in for a quick visit,” Azirphale instructed and pushed Newt to the doorway.

Crowley snapped the furniture back into place and he and Aziraphale settled down side by side on the couch. Anathema swept into the room and smiled, followed by a still-panicked Newt.

“What a nice surprise!” She crossed to the couch, accepting a hug from Aziraphale and a wave from Crowley.

“We hope you don’t mind, we were out for a drive in the country and wanted to stop by to say hello,” Aziraphale flashed a smile that made his eyes crease in the most endearing way.

“We don’t mind at all! Would you care to stay for dinner?” She asked, sitting in one of the chairs and straightening her skirts.

“Sorry, but we can’t. Dinner reservations, gotta get back to London.” Crowley replied quickly, seeing the panicked look on Newt’s face somehow become more panicked. 

“Oh, of course.” The three of them stood and anathema led them to the door. “It was nice to see you two. Let us know next time you’re in Tadfield and we’ll make dinner plans.” She smiled and took Newt’s hand.

“Have a lovely evening,” Azirphale smiled knowingly and gave a quick wink to Newt before heading out to the Bentley.

The next day Anathema called. Newt had told her about their involvement and she just had to thank them. It had been the most magical night, she said. Newt had dressed up in his finest suit and invited her to dinner. He had driven them to a very exclusive restaurant  _ (getting a reservation there is almost impossible! It’s a miracle he was able to get us in!) _ There, they had dined and danced in a beautiful ballroom lit by candles and chandeliers and were accompanied by a string quartet. ( _ Newt was a decent dancer. Perhaps Aziraphale would sign them up for dance lessons for the next holiday.)  _ Before the evening was out, he had taken her on a moonlight walk through the gardens that shimmered in the thousands of lights strung between the trees, and kissed her by the fountain. She described it as the “perfect date.”

Mission accomplished.


	7. My Angel is the Centerfold

“C’mon! You asked me to help you, but I can’t help you from out here!” Crowley called from his chair in the changing area.

“This isn’t at all what I meant, Crowley!” Azirapahle huffed from behind the dark blue curtain.

“You just said to pick out something nice for our date, something I’d like. Well, I’d like that,” Crowley was grinning from ear to ear, sitting forward, elbows on knees, waiting to see his angel emerge.

Over breakfast Aziraphale had asked Crowley for his help picking out a new, fashionable and modern outfit for their upcoming date. Crowley immediately accepted, dreaming of all the outfits he would put his angel in and very nearly dooling at the thought. He paid the breakfast bill and dragged Aziraphale to the most fashionable boutique in London, which just happened to have a wide variety of styles to choose from.

Upon entry, Aziraphale had spotted a nice double breasted cream suit and drifted over to it, but Crowley dragged him away, choosing a navy suit, a black suit, and a few other special things for Aziraphale to try on.

“It’s just you, right?” Aziraphale’s voice wavered.

Crowley stood and crossed to the curtain. “Just me, angel,” his voice was soft and low, comforting. “May I please see?”

“Go sit,” Aziraphale instructed, still nervous.

“Sitting,” Crowley resumed his forward posture, anticipation rising.

“Alright. But don’t laugh,” Aziraphale’s hand poked through the curtain, hesitating to pull it open.

“I promise I won’t, just get out here!” Crowley’s voice was low and had the hint of a growl in it.

After another moment the curtain was drawn open and there stood Aziraphale in a dress. Deep crimson with a plunging neckline, skintight and hugging every delicious curve, cutting off halfway down those thighs that drove Crowley mad.

Aziraphale’s cheeks were almost as red as the dress, his eyes downcast, hands tugging at the hem, trying to pull it lower.

“_ Angel _,” Crowley breathed, throwing off his dark glasses. He stood and circled the angel, leading him to stand before the mirrors.

“Oh, Crowley. This is not what I had in mind,” Aziraphale’s hands fidgeted, pulling the neckline up, then the hem back down, a constant battle for modesty.

“But look at you,” Crowley slithered up behind him and wound an arm around his waist. The other hand drifted from Aziraphale’s bare shoulder to his side, savoring every soft curve as his fingers traced over them. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s neck and met the angel’s blue eyes in the mirror. “You’re _ gorgeous _.”

“Oh, dearest,” Aziraphale squeaked as Crowley grabbed at his thigh and turned to face him. “May I try on something else?”

“Just one second,” Crowley stepped back and ogled the angel, memorizing every detail. “Alright, you can change now.”

Aziraphale hurried to the changing room and pulled the curtain back over. 

“What do you have for me next, angel?” Crowley sat again, unable to remove the sappy grin from his face. He was having a fantastic time.

“This feels very nice. Much more my style,” Aziraphale’s voice contained his smile.

“Which one?” Crowley’s leg was bouncing.

“You’ll see in a moment, dear,” Aziraphale teased. He clearly liked this option and was admiring himself in the mirror. 

As promised, a moment later the curtain drew back and he emerged wearing a vintage-style tea dress. It was cream with a large, pleated skirt that hung from his waist in the most flattering way. There was a high collar of a contrasting black with a small black bow tied neatly over the vertical row of black buttons. He curtsied and gave Crowley a twirl, giggling delightedly as the skirt _ whooshed _ and spun around him.

“You like this one, angel?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, yes. Although I think it might be fun to pair it with this.” He closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Suddenly his hair was shoulder length and hung in loose curls. His shape shifted slightly to a more hourglass shape, filling out the top of the dress in a way that made Crowley’s head spin. “What do you think?” Aziraphale batted his eyelashes and tossed his hair. “Do you like this?”

Crowley stared at this altered form, jaw dropped. Usually, Crowley was the one to experiment with forms and fashion, and he was thrilled to see Aziraphale letting loose.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear, I’ll shift back,” Aziraphale looked disappointed and Crowley realized he hadn’t responded.

“Don’t you dare!” Crowley growled, taking Azirphale’s hand in his, stopping the snap that would change him back. “I love you in any and every shape, angel. You’re stunning. You’re perfect. You’re mine,” Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s waist against him and pressed his lips to soft pink ones, running his fingers through the now-long blonde curls. “I’d like to see more of this form from time to time if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Aziraphale blushed. “I do like this dress, it’s very comfortable. Why didn’t I wear dresses before?” He was admiring himself in the mirror.

“Dunno. I always thought you’d look great in them,” Crowley smiled.

“Not half as good as you do, dear,” he winked at Crowley and bounced off into the changing room before Crowley could grab him again.

“Not true, angel,” he said, watching him sweep off in a twirl of skirt and snapping his fingers.

“Well, I suppose we’d need a third party to decide that. Wait, wasn’t there a suit? I thought there was a suit in here.”

There was a shuffling of fabric and the soft _ clang _ of hangers.

“Maybe you shouldn’t change your shape back just yet. What else do you have to try on?” An evil grin spread over Crowley’s face.

“Crowley! You can’t be _ serious _!” Aziraphale was absolutely scandalized and Crowley roared with laughter.

“Just try it on, angel! Please!”

“This is hardly appropriate for a date,” Aziraphale protested, but Crowley could hear the rustle of fabric that let him know that the angel was changing.

“Maybe not the beginning of the date,” Crowley smirked, imagining the look on the angel’s face at that comment.

“_ Really _, Crowley! You just like to shock me!” Aziraphale scolded.

“Maybe, but what I’d really like is to see you in that outfit,” Crowley lounged casually in his chair.

“Promise me that I can try on that nice suit after this.” Aziraphale bargained.

“Promise.”

“Give me proof!” Aziraphale poked his head out, long hair framing his round face and making him look positively angelic.

Crowley held up his arm, holding the suit up for Aziraphale to see.

“Now, come get it,” Crowley beckoned.

“You are positively evil,” Azirapahle sighed.

“Demon,” Crowley winked. “Now, come out of there, let me see you!”

Aziraphale slowly drew back the curtain and Crowley gasped.

Aziraphale, in all the feminine curves, was draped in a pale blue, sheer babydoll trimmed with white lace. The straps were made of satin ribbon, each tied with a sweet bow at the top of the shoulder. Underneath the dress Crowley could see the hint of lace and he nearly discorporated on the spot.

“Spin,” he choked out and Aziraphale grinned, seeing the reaction to him draped in vintage lingerie, clearly proud.

He gave Crowley a slow turn, showing off every angle. The back plunged down to his waist and Crowley must have made a noise because Aziraphale giggled and looked over his shoulder.

“You like?” Those blue eyes sparkled with pride, love, and mischief.

“Yeah,” Crowley nodded, still dumbstruck.

“Suit please,” Aziraphale held out a hand and Crowley couldn’t stop him from taking the suit. “Thank you, my love.” Azirapahle walked back to the changing room, swinging those hips and tossing that hair. “Sit, now. You look like you might pass out,” he added as he pulled the curtain closed again.

Crowley nodded and obeyed. His head was spinning and his heart was pounding and he cursed himself for doing this out in public, instead of in private where he could kiss his angel silly.

Aziraphale strode into the room a minute later, back in his usual shape, wearing the suit Crowley had picked out for him. A pair of slim back trousers, a pale blue shirt peeking out from under a cream jacket, striped in a wide tartan pattern with black lines.

“I love this,” Aziraphale admired himself in the mirror, turning to see every angle. “Very our side, isn’t it?”

“It is. Missing one thing, though.” Crowley waved his hand in the air and produced a red rose, which he pinned onto the lapel. “There, now it’s perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll get you another for our date.” He pressed a kiss to Azirphale’s cheek and felt it warm under his lips.

“I look forward to it.”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s tie and pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck and sighing against his lips. Crowley wound his arms around Aziraphale’s back and kissed him, snapping his fingers. The lingerie was suddenly tucked into a nice box and delivered to the backroom of the bookshop, tucked away in a desk drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenging myself with this one - getting a little bit more frisky in my writing, as well as experimenting with changes in form in the middle of this. Hopefully it worked!


	8. Touch

Aziraphale was seated on the ornate throne in Crowley’s flat, book in hand, although he wasn’t reading it. Crowley was in the other room, muttering at his plants and spraying them down with the plastic plant mister.

“Just because I’ve been away doesn’t mean you can let yourselves go. Look at these leaf spots! You’re  _ wilting _ ! And don’t even get me started on your discoloration!” He hissed and sprayed, circling the room and pointing menacingly at the plants. Aziraphale chuckled in the other room. The first time he had heard Crowley with his plants he had been absolutely appalled. He had tried to run around the room praising the plants, but Crowley dragged him away. After that, Aziraphale had noticed that he had gotten softer with them. He still scolded and yelled, but there was less heat behind it. Aziraphale still tried to compliment them whenever he could.

Crowley excited the plant room, tossing the mister onto the table and sauntering over to Aziraphale, draping himself over the arm of the throne.

“What’cha reading?” he poked at the book, open in Aziraphale’s lap.

“I believe it’s Dickens,” Aziraphale sighed, closing the book.

“You don’t know?” Crowley laughed.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t really paying it much attention,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Weren’t you?” Crowley raised an eyebrow and tossed the book onto the desk. “What were you paying attention to?” He slithered down into Aziraphale’s lap, wrapping his arms around the angel’s neck.

“I believe you know, dear. I’m sure I’ve made it clear how fond I am of you.” Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek in his hand, glowing with so much adoration it almost hurt Crowley’s eyes.

“I’m not sure you have,” Crowley removed the spectacles from Aziraphale’s face and tossed them on top of the book. “Remind me.”

“That sounds more like a challenge than a request,” Azirapahle smirked.

“Both?” Crowley leaned in.

“Both,” Aziraphale agreed and closed the gap between them, their lips pressing together softly, then with more enthusiasm.

Aziraphale wrapped Crowley in his arms and held him against his broad chest. Crowley ran his hands through the soft white curls he loved so much and Aziraphale copied the movement, twining his fingers in fiery locks. They kissed and they held each other, tracing every line and curve, soaking each other in, memorizing the feel of skin against fingertips, the feel of lips against skin. Their touches and kisses slowed, but never stopped, becoming more casual, yet more intimate. Crowley ran lazy fingers over the curves of Aziraphale’s arm, while Aziraphales fingers continued to brush through Crowley’s hair. They were content to just sit with one another, to bask in the warm familiarity of togetherness.

“Music, angel?” Crowley spoke against Aziraphale’s chest.

“Lovely idea,” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the speakers began to pulse, loud and distorted. Crowley curved his hand and turned it to the left and the volume was turned down to a more tolerable level.

A soft piano, a bass, then the velvet voice of Nat King Cole crooned over soaring strings.

_ Unforgettable  
_ _ That’s what you are  
_ _ Unforgettable  
_ _ Though near or far _

“This okay?” Crowley asked.

“Mmhmm,” Azirphale hummed, creating a pleasant vibration in his chest.

_ Like a song of love that clings to me  
_ _ How the thought of you does things to me  
_ _ Never before  
_ _ Has someone been more _

“Dance with me, angel.” Crowley pushed himself off Aziraphale’s lap and offered his hand.

“I’d love to,” Aziraphale blushed and took it. How the angel could blush about being asked to dance after just making out was beyond Crowley, but he couldn’t get enough of it. Every moment he made Aziraphale blush over a small gesture of affection was a moment he treasured.

Crowley led him away from the throne and took him by the waist, swaying together. Aziraphale pulled Crowley close by wrapping an arm around his neck and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

_ Unforgettable  
_ _ In every way  
_ _ And forever more  
_ _ That’s how you’ll stay _

A chill ran down Crowley’s spine as he felt Aziraphale’s warm breath against his skin, his sturdy hand in his, the fingers that traced patterns lightly along Crowley’s shoulder.

Aziraphale relished in the tingle of his skin where it mingled with Crowley’s - the hand that felt rough and sure in his, the heat of the arm protectively wrapped around his waist, the security of the skin that pillowed his face and allowed him to hear the beating of Crowley’s heart.

__ That’s why darling it’s incredible  
_ That someone so unforgettable  
_ __ Thinks that I am unforgettable, too

They swayed in slow circles, eyes closed as their hearts swelled with the strings, their minds capturing each word, their entire being pouring love into their partner.

There was a soft flutter and a feeling of further calm spread over the room.

“Angel,” Crowley whispered, afraid to break the moment.

“Yes, my love?” 

“Look,” Crowley prompted.

Azirphale opened his eyes and found them surrounded by the soft down of white and black.

“When…?” Aziraphale asked, his features wide and open with love and awe.

“Dunno, nice though.” Crowley’s eyes slowly traced along their cocoon. 

“It is, could use just a bit more light, though. I can’t see you, my dear.” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley and began to shine in a heavenly light, casting a gentle golden light onto Crowley’s features. His hair painted with flecks of gold and yellow, his eyes gentle, glowing liquid gold.

Aziraphale’s halo was visible just above his angelic curls, casting shadows along the soft roundness of his cheeks. His eyes shone blue, eager and clear, like a tropical ocean in the bright summer sun. 

“You’re beautiful, Crowley.” He whispered this with such conviction and adoration that Crowley’s heart stopped and he had to will it back to beating. “You are, truly.” Aziraphale ran the back of his fingers down the side of Crowley’s face and along his chin, turning it to give him a gentle  _ boop _ on the tip of his nose. “My exquisite love, my handsome demon, my magnificent Crowley.”

“Angel, I’m going to discorporate,” Crowley placed his forehead against Aziraphale’s, his heart beating erratically in his chest, his breath unsteady.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Aziraphale smiled. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

“Nkg!” Crowley choked out.

“Please believe me, dear. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, no matter what the style is, you have always been stunning. I will never tire of reminding you, my dear. I will tell you every day for the rest of eternity and I hope that you believe me someday.”

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley’s heart ached to express just how deeply he loved his angel, but words failed him. He hoped that Aziraphale understood just how deep he felt those words, as if they were pulled from the depths of his very celestial essence.

“I love you, Crowley, for eternity and longer.” Aziraphale looked deep into Crowley’s golden eyes and the demon was sure the angel understood.


	9. Kiss

“When did you first want to kiss me?” Aziraphale watched Crowley carefully over his mug of steaming cocoa. Crowley had whisked him away for a day out without any particular destination in mind. He had sped through turns that had Aziraphale clinging to the roof, the door, the seat, and Crowley, for support. He drove aimlessly until a certain angel’s stomach signaled that it was time for lunch. He slowed his driving then, allowing them to search for somewhere to stop and eat. Aziraphale had spotted the sweetest little restaurant and pointed it out with a happy wiggle, giving Crowley no choice but to pull over. 

It was a quaint cafe, and old brick building covered in flowers in shades of pink and purple, both inside and out. The large front window had a sill that was full of delicate pink and white begonias and deep purple zinnias. Aziraphale cooed at them as they walked by, telling them they were looking lovely and to keep up the good work.

The inside had even more flowers, a vase on each table, with potted plants filling every empty space. The front window let in plenty of light, as did the panels in the slanted roof, clearly installed recently for the plants. The walls were painted a charming shade of rose and gorgeous paintings of flowers hung every few feet. A small card listed the names of the artists, all local. Aziraphale wondered if he should buy one as Crowley led him to a small round table by the front window and pulled out a chair for him. The blooms in the window box seemed to stretch out to face the angel who had complimented them so kindly.

“ _ What _ ?” Crowley sputtered, spilling coffee on the nice cream tablecloth.

“When did you first want to kiss me?” he repeated calmly. “Come, dear, it’s hardly a shocking question. We’ve known each other for over 6,000 years.” Aziraphale took another sip of cocoa and set down his mug, pulling his plate closer to him.

“When did you?” Crowley asked, mopping up the coffee with the navy blue cloth napkin embroidered with a small daisy pattern in the corner. 

“I had entertained the idea of kissing as early as Rome, but it wasn’t until the Blitz that I understood why humans craved it so.” Aziraphale reminisced, eyes staring at the tablecloth, a small smile playing at his lips as he spoke. “It was then that I truly understood what I had been feeling for you all those centuries. When you saved my books and offered me a lift home, my heart was flooded, completely overwhelmed with love beyond anything I had imagined love could be and it longed to overflow into you through touches, specifically a kiss.” Azirapahle’s eyes lifted to meet Crowley’s. “I nearly kissed you that night. I wish I had.”

“Me too,” Crowley replied, still processing. How had they never discussed this before?

“And you, my darling?” Aziraphale took a bite of the vanilla sponge with a rose icing, colored pale pink and piped into rosettes. 

“Why? Why now? Why here?” Crowley asked, wracking his brain for any hint of conversation that would have brought this up.

“Just curious,” Aziraphale smiled and slipped another bite of cake into his mouth.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t remember?” he tried with a questioning shrug.

“Not for a moment, love.” Aziraphale shook his head, amused. “You’ve told me you’ve loved me since Eden, is that when you first wanted to kiss me?”

“I didn’t really know what kissing was then, didn’t know much at all,” Crowley mused.

“Then when was it?” Aziraphale pressed.

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Crowley asked, sounding sharper than he intended.

“I said, I was curious. You don’t have to answer,” Aziraphale lifted his mug and took another sip, staring out the window.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. Just don’t know why it’s so important all of a sudden,” Crowley apologized, reaching his hand across the table and waiting for Aziraphale to take it. It only took him a moment to place his hand in Crowley’s, giving him a forgiving smile.

“I’m sorry if it seemed a non sequitur. There’s so much love in the air right now and I find it hard to think about anything else. Naturally, that led me to think about you and everything I love about you and, well, I think you see where I was coming from now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Crowley squeezed his hand and nodded his understanding.

“You really don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” the angel added.

“Rome.”

“Rome?” Aziraphale tilted his head in surprise.

“I was in a terrible mood and you were so happy to see me with your smile and your silly wing pin.” Crowley set his chin in his hand, staring at Aziraphale as he bared his soul to him. “Then you had to go and tempt me to lunch and, without knowing it, tempted me to so much more. I couldn’t stop thinking about it through the whole meal. The way you  _ slurped _ those oysters was almost torture! I was sure I was going to discorporate right there! But then you smiled at me and you teased me and you were kind to me and I knew I could never leave you, not really. I took breaks of course, thought it would be best, tried to stay away, but never could. So yeah, Rome.”

Aziraphale stayed silent for a full minute.

“I was quite wrong, wasn’t I?” he finally said, his voice hushed, almost to himself.

“About what?”

Aziraphale’s expression was pained and apologetic. “You were never going fast. You were going so very slow for me. I couldn’t have asked you to go any slower and yet, I did. If I’d had any idea…”

Crowley took Azirpahale’s chin in his hand, leaned across the table, and kissed him soundly on the mouth, pulling a small gasp from the angel’s lips.

“What matters is that we’re both here, together, going the same speed.” He kept his gentle hold on Aziraphale’s chin and kissed him on the forehead before returning to his chair.

“Quite right, as usual, sweetheart,” he looked slightly dazed, but was smiling giddily.

“Sweetheart?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Going all out on the petnames today, huh?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have to. I’ll just stick to my dear. No need to go wild,” Azirphale laughed nervously.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Crowley pointed out.

“You don’t mind, then?” Aziraphale’s easy smiled returned. 

“I don’t mind,” Crowley picked up a fork and stole a bite of the cake from Azirapahle’s plate. “Can I pick one for you?”

“You already have one,” Azirphalel looked surprised.

“Okay, fine, a new one?” He swiped another bite while Aziraphale was distracted.

“I’m rather fond of angel.” The response was slow and quiet.

“ _ Angel _ , I’ll still use that one, obviously, I just thought maybe I could pick another.” Crowley shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Aziraphale wiggled again and Crowley’s heart surged. “Did you have one in mind?”

“Nothing specific, sweetheart.” Crowley smiled. “Anything you’d like, honey? Pumpkin?” Aziraphale was laughing as Crowley tried to find increasingly ridiculous names. “Cutiepie? Sugarsnap? Babycakes? Lollipop?”

“Lollipop? I don’t think that’s really a pet name!” Aziraphale was doubled over in laughter now, his hand bracing himself on the table.

“Could be! We could make it! Or would you prefer poopsie?” Crowley threw his head back and roared at that one. Aziraphale’s laughter increased and he could hardly catch his breath. Somehow, his hand slipped from the table and he went toppling to the floor. Crowley was kneeling beside him before Aziraphale had even registered what had happened.

“Are you alright, dove?” Crowley asked, cupping Aziraphale’s chin and looking for damage.

“No, need to fuss dear,” Azirphale had that awestruck look on his face again. “I’m alright. Really, I am.” Crowley helped the angel to his feet, wrapped his arm around his waist, waved a hand to leave cash on the table, and let Aziraphale out of the cafe, sitting him in the Bentley. He ran over and hopped into the driver’s seat, turning his attention back to Aziraphale, checking him all over for cuts or bruises.

“I’m fine, dear, I really am.” Aziraphale insisted.

“Okay,” Crowley stopped his search. “Ready to go home?”

“I do believe I am. I like that one, by the way.” Aziraphale reached over and slid his hand into Crowley’s.

“What one?”

“The last one you used. Dove. I like it.” Aziraphale was blushing again and wasn’t it just the best thing Crowley had ever seen.

“Yeah?” He shifted himself closer to his angel.

Aziraphale nodded.

“May I kiss you, dove?” Crowley tried. It felt comfortable, easy on his tongue.

“Please, love,” Aziraphale breathed, leaning into Crowley’s warmth.


	10. Champagne

Two hands entwined on a brisk day in London. Two seemingly opposite beings strolled together down the street. Two soft smiles made only for one other. Four eyes stealing sidelong looks with lingering tendencies. Two hearts fluttered and two chests rumbled with laughter.

When they approached a crosswalk, a long-fingered hand moved to guide and protect the soft waist of the other. As they approached a shop awning. A sturdy arm linked through a thin and guided them inside.

The shop employee, Anna, had seen customers like this all day. Silly in love is how she described it. Two fools acting foolish about the most foolish thing in the world. She rolled her eyes, sighed, then put on her best customer service voice.

“Good afternoon gentlemen. Are you looking for anything in particular?” She plastered her best fake-smile on her face and gestured to a display of red and white showing off the best selection of champagnes and sparkling wines for Valentine’s Day. “We are running a special on our Valentine selection if you’re interested.”

“Perhaps champagne would be nice,” The shorter one muttered, looking over the labels in the display, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Don’t need a holiday for champagne, angel,” the tall one responded.

_ A strange pair, these two _ , Anna thought. The tall one was dressed in stylish, dark clothes, while the other dressed as if it were still the 1900’s, all buttoned up in soft creams and blues.  _ Sharp and round, _ she laughed to herself.  _ Grumpy and sunshine. _ It was like some sort of romance book, but in a London liquor store.

“I know, dear, but there’s a sale!” the short one beamed at him, pulling him over by his hand. “Just look, please? Let me know if there’s anything you like.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” the tall one resigned and bent in half to look at the selection, brushing his red hair out of his face.

The door opened again, letting in a blast of cool air, and Anna’s breath caught and her heart stuttered.

“Hey Anna,” she was greeted in a lovely baritone.

“Hi Grant,” Anna smiled and gave a small wave. “The usual?”

“Nah, I think I’ll try something new today,” he grinned at her, crooked and beautiful. He had dark hair swooped over to one side and dark eyes that sparkled over his cheeky grin.

“Let me know if you need any help picking something out.”

“I will,” he winked at her and began his journey around the shop, searching for just the right thing. Anna watched him as he disappeared behind a shelf and caught the eye of the shorter man in cream. He flashed her an encouraging smile and turned back to his partner, who was holding two bottles in his hand, trying to get an opinion from him.   
“You decide, my love.”

“You’re going to drink it, too!” the tall one held the bottles aloft.

“Let’s just get both, then! They are on sale,” the soft one was watching Anna again, she could feel his stare, but her eyes wandered around the shop for a different customer.

“You’re not even paying attention!” the redhead huffed. “What are you-”

His partner shot him a look that shut him up, inclining his head slightly towards Anna, then towards Grant in the next aisle.

“Oh, you’re gonna interfere, aren’t you?” he lowered his voice.

“I don’t interfere! I get invested,” his partner explained, his features playfully stern.

“What’re you gonna do? Too late for mistletoe,” the tall one joked, pretending to look at the bottles of margarita mix on the shelf behind him.

“Never you mind! If you’re not going to help, you may as well pay and wait outside.” he held out his arm, gesturing to the door and inviting his partner to move towards it.

“Never said I wouldn’t help, dove.” 

_ Oh god, _ Anna thought. The pet names were going to kill her. She set her chin in her hand and leaned over the counter, playing absently with a pencil.

“Good afternoon!” The sunshine one approached the counter, all smiles.

“Good afternoon,” she straightened up. “Did you find everything you needed?” She couldn’t help but feel genuinely happier around this strange old-fashioned man.

“Oh yes! Thank you!” he beamed as his partner set two bottles on the counter, then lowered his voice. “Forgive me, but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to fancy that nice young man that just came in.” Anna tensed. “I was just wondering how long you’ve known each other. You seem very friendly.” He took a credit card from his partner’s offered hand and placed it down next to the bottles.

“Uh, two years now,” Anna choked out. 

“And this is the extent of your relationship?” he pressed, eyebrows raised in earnestness. Why was he so interested in her love life?   
“Yeah. He had a girlfriend for a while.” Why was she telling him all this?

“But not anymore?” the man’s eyes sparkled.

“No, they broke up six months ago.” She was scanning their bottles and speaking, as if in a daze.

“And you’ve been giving him time to heal. How very dear of you!” He settled his arm in the crook of his partner's. “Sometimes patience is key, right darling?” He beamed up at his partner, who gave him the sweetest, most lovestruck, smile Anna had ever seen. It seemed out of place among his long lines and sharp corners, but it also felt like it belonged there always.

“Sometimes,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the other’s pale hair.

“But sometimes you have to take the risk or lose the chance of reward. Patience is fine, but you don’t want to miss your chance.” His soft face fell for a moment and Anna could feel the pain of loss as if he had placed it in her heart, but it was gone a moment later, replaced by a soft, reassuring smile. 

He glanced around the room, set his eyes on Grant for a moment, breathing deep, then turned back to Anna. 

“I can’t guarantee, but I think you should give it a try.” He winked and picked up the paper bag filled with their champagne.

“You done meddling, angel?” The tall one asked, holding his arms out for the bag, which was handed over with a loving smile. “Go ahead, I’ll be right there.” He shooed the man out of the shop and turned back to Anna, resting his elbow on the counter and leaning over to speak quietly. “Sorry ‘bout him, he means well. And for the record he’s usually right when it comes to love. Trust him. Patience is all well and good, but someone’s got to take the plunge. Nothing will change if you don’t.” He straightened up and walked to the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, eyes hidden behind those strange sunglasses. “Good luck!”

The two men kissed on the sidewalk outside, entwined their hands and walked away, the taller one sauntering on long legs, the shorter one bustling to keep up.

“How’s this?” Grant set a bottle on the counter.

“I didn’t think you’d go for a sparkling wine!” Anna teased. “You usually go for whiskey.” She scanned the bottle and placed it into a bag.

“Well, I was hoping you’d like it,” Grant gave her a shy smile.

“Me?” She froze, her eyes meeting Grant’s and her heart nearly flying out of her chest.

“Yeah, I thought maybe we could hang out.” His hands were in his pockets, his expression forced casual. “See a movie or have dinner. I make a pretty good chicken parm.”

“Yeah, that sounds really great,” Anna felt dizzy.

“Yeah? Cool. When do you get off work?” He smiled at her, a full, stunning, smile that crept into his eyes and made them warm and inviting.

“6:00,” she answered, not caring that she was quite obviously staring into his eyes, a goofy grin on her face.

“Great, I’ll be here at 6!” He grabbed his bag and walked toward the door, glancing back at her as he left.

That night, Grant picked Anna up after work, made her a delicious dinner, and convinced her to dance around his living room. When he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers she melted into him, her heart aflame.

In the backroom of a bookshop in Soho, an odd pair sat together on a worn sofa, champagne flutes in hand, toasting to love.


	11. Love Token

**Day 11: Love token**

“What’s wrong, dove?” Crowley came up behind Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his chin on the angel’s shoulder.

They were standing at the counter in the shop. Aziraphale was staring at the floor, hands hanging limply at his sides, his face contorted in pain.

“Are you okay?” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hands in his and examined them for cuts, but there were none.

“I knocked it off,” Aziraphale sounded close to tears. He deflated against Crowley’s chest, bringing his hands to his face. “I don’t know what happened. It was on the counter one moment and the next it was shattering!

“It’s okay. I’ll clean it up.” There were shards of glass all over the hardwood floor, covering a great distance and sparkling in the sun that was streaming into the shop. Crowley moved to slide around Aziraphale, but the angel grabbed him, stopping him. 

“No, please don’t.” Aziraphle was distressed, which in turn distressed Crowley. Why was the angel so upset about a broken glass? It was an easy fix with a miracle, or could be replaced the human way simply enough.

“Shhhh,” Crowley soothed, turning Aziraphale to face him and letting the angel’s head bury itself in his chest. “It was an accident. I can fix it if you want, angel, s’no problem.”

Crowley raised his hand to snap the glass from the floor to reassemble on the counter.

“No! I don’t want you to fix it!” Aziraphale began to sob into Crowley’s chest.

“Okay, I won’t fix it, just breathe, dove.” His hand froze, then wrapped around the angel.

“Why can’t I do anything right? What’s wrong with me?” Aziraphale wailed, muffled by Crowley’s chest.

“Angel, nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect.” Crowley scooped Aziraphale up into his arms and into the back room. He settled them on the couch, Azirpahale curled up in Crowley’s lap, clutching at his shirt.

“Talk to me.” Crowley drew his fingers through Aziraphale’s downy hair and the angel melted into each touch.

“I always make such a mess. No matter how hard I try, everything always goes wrong. Always making such stupid mistakes,” Aziraphale sniffled.   
“What’s this really about, dove?” Crowley soothed and pressed sweet, soft kisses to the angel’s cheek, hair, and forehead.

“I, I, I've failed. In so many ways over the years. I’ve let so many people down, I've never been good enough!” Aziraphale balled Crowley’s shirt in his fists, tears burning down his cheeks.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” He exclaimed, slamming a fist against Crowley’s chest. “Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry!” He gently kissed the spot and rubbed along it with his fingers. “It is true. I’ve been a failure ever since the beginning. I was never a good soldier, I gave away my sword and failed at protecting Eden, I’ve been lying to heaven for 6,000 years, I interfered in the plan! All because I’m gluttonous and selfish! Too blinded by my own desires to do the job that I was created for!”

“Aziraphale, I won’t believe for a second that you were ever created to be a soldier. Whatever the plan is, She knew what she was doing when she created you.”

“But why? Why am I like this?” Aziraphale begged. “Why am I selfish and lazy and soft?”

“Oh, dove. My darling Aziraphale, what brought this on? You are perfect, angel. The best thing that She ever created. Beautiful and kind and soft, yes, but that’s one of the best things about you. I wish you wouldn’t be ashamed of that. I love you and I love that you’re soft.” Crowley’s hands caressed any part of the angel he could reach.

“But I’m not supposed to be. None of the other angels are soft, no other angels eat, no other angels  _ love _ !” Azirpahale broke out in a new round of sobs. “Our love can't be wrong, it can’t be!”

“It’s not, dove, it’s not. It’s the best thing on earth, I promise you. And you’re right, no other angel is like you. That doesn’t mean you’re wrong. They’re cold assholes who don’t deserve to be angels. Just as bad as demons, the lot of ‘em. You’re the only true angel, the only one who took care of earth, who cared for the humans, who enjoyed everything She created. They stayed up there in that sterile dickworld in the clouds and stayed hands-off until we stopped the apocalypse. They’re the ones that failed, love, not you!” He pressed a kiss to one wet cheek and rubbed his angel’s back. “Besides, you’ve never failed me!”

“How can you say that?” Aziraphale’s expression twisted into pain, his face red and blotchy, eyes pink and watery, his bottom lip raw from chewing on it. “I’ve failed you most of all! All the times I pushed you away, lied to you, I deserted you just before the end of the world because I thought I could do it on my own, but I made it all worse! Got myself discorporated, burned down the bookshop, and left you to pick up all the pieces!”

“Angel, don’t…” Crowley tried to calm him, but he was inconsolable.

“You lost hope. I know you always liked to pretend you didn’t have any, but I knew it was there. It was always there. But then it wasn’t, you lost it all when you thought I was gone. You gave up. Didn’t even run away like you said you were going to. And what did I do? Told you to go save the world on your own!”   
“You told me you’d be there. I knew you would be. I knew you wouldn’t leave me. You always come back, always.” Crowley held Aziraphale tightly with one hand, the other cupped his face, rubbing his thumb along his cheek, wiping away tears as they fell.   
“But there was no guarantee! I would have tried and tried, of course, but there was a high chance that I wouldn’t make it back in time, or even at all! What would have happened if I hadn’t…” he lost his voice then, breaking into sobs and wrapping his arms around Crowley.

“Shh, dove, it’s alright. You’re here, you’re fine, everything’s fine.”

“I hate to think about what would have happened to you if I hadn’t come back. Left to face everything on your own. Hell would have  _ destroyed _ you!” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley tightly, his whole body heaving with sobs. “Oh Crowley! Oh, my love, what if they had destroyed you? It would have been all my fault!”

“Aziraphale, no, no, dove. We don’t have to worry about that anymore. We’re safe, we’re together. You came back, you outsmarted Heaven and you came back to save the world, to save me. You’ve saved me so many times. Every time you smiled at me, believed in me, lied to Heaven for me, every time you spent time with me, every time you show me love. Aziraphale, you’ve been saving me for 6,000 years!”

Crowley hooked a gentle finger under Aziraphale’s chin and brought his face towards his. He moved slowly, leaning in to kiss each of Aziraphale’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose. Aziraphale’s eyes closed and Crowley lightly brushed his lips against the angel’s eyelids. 

“Come, dove, let me see you.” Crowley whispered. Blue eyes fluttered open and gazed adoringly into Crowley’s golden eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that okay?”

“Oh,  _ yes _ , love.” Aziraphale breathed and let his eyes flutter closed again and Crowley pulled his chin closer, letting his lips claim Aziraphale’s in a gentle kiss. The angel sighed into it, fisting his hands in Crowley’s hair and pulling him closer, tears still streaming down his cheeks. 

“Oh,  _ Crowley _ ,” he sighed as Crowley peppered kisses along his cheek, ear, and jawline.

“Do you feel how much I love you?” Crowley asked, continuing his assault of affection.

“Yes, my love.” Aziraphale giggled as Crowley eyelashes brushed against his ear, tickling him. “Oh, darling,” he pulled Crowley’s face up to meet his gaze. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I fell apart, thank you for once again, picking up all the pieces.”

“I’ll always be here when you need me, my dove.” Crowley rubbed his fingers along the soft apples of Aziraphale’s cheeks. “And just in case you need a reminder, I have something for you.”   
“You do?” Aziraphale smiled weakly.

“Need to get up to get it, though.” Crowley scooped Aziraphale up and placed him gently on the couch beside him. He pecked the angel on the nose and stood, crossing to the desk. Tucked underneath a drawer was a wrapped package, which Crowley withdrew and presented it to Aziraphale, settling in beside him on the couch.

“Darling, you didn’t have to do this,” Aziraphale sniffled and ran his hand lovingly over the shiny gold paper.

“I was waiting for the right time to give it to you, and this seems like the right time. Open it, angel. I think you’re gonna like it.” Crowley nudged him with a smirk.

Aziraphale carefully broke the tap, pulled back the paper and gasped.

“Is this…?” he asked, admiring the sleek black frame. 

“Yeah, had ‘em for a while.” Crowley was staring at Aziraphale, drinking in his expression.

Inside the frame was a silver background covered with swirls. Atop that were set two feathers, one pure white, the other iridescent black, curved into each other to form a heart. Below the heart was written in gold script “Our Side.”

“Our feathers, but how?” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley as if love were about to spill out of him.

“I found yours on the wall in Eden. After you left. Picked it up.” he shrugged.

“You’ve had it since  _ Eden _ ?” A grin broke over Aziraphale’s features.

“Don’t know why I kept it, but I finally found a use for it.” Crowley ruffled angelic curls.

“It’s incredible, my love. I will treasure it always,” Aziraphale pressed it to his heart, “as I treasure you.”

“You’re such a romantic,” Crowley laughed, taking the frame and setting it up on Aziraphale’s desk.

“That I am. Desperately, hopelessly so.”


	12. Serenade

The sky was grey and overcast and a flurry of snow was just beginning to flutter down, dancing on the bitter wind. Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand tightly in his, pulling the demon along behind him and doing his best to block the wind. Crowley had started shivering three blocks back, pulling his coat tighter around him and hunching forward against the chill. 

“Nearly there, dear.” Aziraphale assured him over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the destination ahead, just half a block away. “We’ll get you warmed up in no time!”

Crowley’s hand squeezed his as they hurried on, his face buried in the scarf Azirapahle had wrapped around him.

When they reached the door Aziraphale pulled it open, wrapped his arm around Crowley and pushed him in. He slipped in, shut the door, and immediately wrapped his arms around the poor frozen demon, rubbing his hands over his back and arms to warm him.

“Better, my love?” Aziraphale asked, guiding him to a small table in the corner and sitting him down. Crowley nodded and let himself be seated. “I’ll go get you a nice hot coffee.” Aziraphale promised and kissed Crowley on the cheek before making his way over to the counter. 

Crowley blew hot air over his fingers and rubbed them together. He hadn’t wanted to leave the shop this morning, but Aziraphale was craving sweets and insisted that miracled treats just weren’t the same, even if Crowley promised to miracle them with love, so here they were, braving the February chill.

Aziraphale returned a moment later with a charcoal grey mug, short tendrils of steam rising from the dark liquid inside.

“Here you are, dear.” Aziraphale set it down in front of him and Crowley’s hands slipped around it, sighing as the heat seeped into his skin.

“Thank you, angel.” He stared across the table at the lovely smile playing at angelic pink lips, the blue eyes surrounded by happy little lines, soft cheeks kissed red by the cold. “Wait, what about you?” He looked down at the table and saw no mug of cocoa, no teacup, no plate of breakfast or pastry.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll get my food in a moment. Had to make sure you warmed up first.” The smile Aziraphale flashed him made Crowley’s heart stop and flutter faster at the same time.

“M’good, dove. Go get breakfast.” Crowley placed his less-frozen hand over Aziraphale’s warm one encouragingly. 

“I can wait another few minutes dear. I promise, I won’t starve.” He patted his stomach with a giggle.

“Go on, I’m warming up now. By the time you get back I’ll be my old hot self,” Crowley smirked and winked at Aziraphale from behind his glasses. 

“Flirt,” the angel teased and stood once more, heading to the counter and examining all the sweet treats in the display.

Crowley looked around the space, impressed by it’s sleek, yet cozy design. Dark woods and polished chromes mingled with plush chairs and homey touches that warmed the atmosphere. It seemed like the perfect meshing of one bastard angel and one nice demon.

Someone in the corner caught his attention. Dark wood, a glossy finish, antique cream with faded black.

Crowley stood and crossed the room, hand outstretched as he moved closer to it. He sat on the padded bench before it and laid his fingers gently upon it, pressing to test the give. Once satisfied, he closed his eyes and began to play.

The piano vibrated under his skilled hands, singing out lyrical melodies and stunning harmonies, light and delicate, yet sturdy and resonant. He swayed as he played, tuning out the room behind him. It had been years since he made music and it felt like coming home, among art, creating, working with his hands, as he had done with the stars.

The high notes tinkled, the low notes hummed, and all other sounds fell away, leaving only the music pouring from his heart, his soul, his hands. 

One melody flowed into another as he changed tunes at his whim, playing through the catalogue of songs that he’d loved over the years, the songs he knew Aziraphale liked, the songs he longed to share with the angel, but never had the nerve, because they reminded him of those blue eyes, that smile, all his soft and beautiful features.

Crowley was startled when he heard something gliding over the sound of the keys. A voice had joined in, climbing and dipping - effortless, smooth and silvery.

_ When I fall in love, it will be forever _ _   
_ _ Or I'll never fall in love _

Crowley opened his eyes to find Aziraphale standing at the edge of the piano, hands gently placed atop the shiny surface, almost hovering, afraid to place any weight on it. His eyes were closed, his head slightly bowed toward the instrument, pink lips moving gently, forming perfect words over his tongue, letting them glide from him to mingle with the slow serenade of the keyboard.

_ In a restless world like this is _ _   
_ _ Love is ended before it's begun _ _   
_ _ And too many moonlight kisses _ _   
_ _ Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun _

Crowley followed the lilt and pauses of Aziraphale’s voice, adjusting his tempo and dynamic as the angel’s voice shifted. His heart was pouring out of him in every syllable. His brow furrowed slightly as he felt the weight of the text, remembering every moment he wished he could love Crowley openly, to confess, to take his hand, press his lips against cool skin, fold the demon into a warm embrace. 

_   
_ _ When I give my heart, it will be completely _ _   
_ _ Or I'll never give my heart _ _   
  
_

A smile played at Aziraphale’s lips. Had he given his heart or was it snatched from him many years ago? Had it ever truly been his or had it always belonged to the serpent of Eden?   
He opened his eyes and found Crowley’s gaze fixed on him, a soft smile playing at the edge of his lips. His glasses had slipped down his nose just far enough for Aziraphale to see the serpentine eyes he so adored. He leaned into the piano, closer to Crowley, his voice growing stronger, professing his love to Crowley in this public space, this room full of humans, unafraid.

  
_ And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too _ _   
_ _ Is when I fall in love with you _

Crowley smiled at him, full and bright and exquisite. He leaned into the keys as he repeated the last two lines, adding his voice, sultry and soft against Aziraphale’s clear tone, singing in harmony, easy and light and perfectly balanced.

  
  


_ And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too _ _   
  
_

They paused, grinning at each other, feeling the anticipation from the room that was hanging on their every word and movement. Their love was streaming from one to the other and back again, almost overwhelming them with the sensation. They breathed together and sang:

_   
_ _ Is when I fall in love with you _

Aziraphale leaned over the piano, a hand wrapping around the back of Crowley's neck, and kissed him oh so softly. Crowley's hands fluttered to brush along the angel's soft cheeks, pink and warm, his touch light and easy. They chuckled and pressed their foreheads together at the sound of applause from behind them.


	13. Grand Gesture

Crowley was up early the next day, dressed and heading out into the grey London morning before Aziraphale could register that he was even awake. The demon slithered out of bed, leaving behind a sleeping angel. Aziraphale had started sleeping shortly after the world didn’t end, snuggling up with Crowley and drifting off. 

Crowley leaned over to press a quick kiss to the mess of soft curls before departing, sliding out from between the sheets and tiptoeing out to the kitchen.

When Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open he reached for Crowley, only to find the other side of the bed vacant.

“Crowley?” he muttered, hoarse from sleep. He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. He yawned, stretching his arms out to the sides, feeling his muscles engaging under his skin and preparing for the day. His outstretched arms dropped to the bed when the sweet scent of something wafted into the bedroom. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, smiling as he did so.

“Good morning, dove.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes to Crowley standing in the doorway, tray in hand, head lolled to one side, looking dreamily at the angel still in bed.

“Good morning, my love.” Aziraphale beamed at him and patted the bed next to him, inviting Crowley to rejoin him.

“Brought you breakfast,” Crowley smiled and moved to the bed, placing the tray over Aziraphale’s lap and curling against his side.

“Did you make all of this?” Aziraphale gasped softly. The tray was set with his white winged mug full of cocoa with marshmallows, a large waffle covered with sliced strawberries, whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate sauce, and beside it sat a smaller plate of crepes and small bowls full of options to fill them with.

“Yeah, found recipes online, didn’t even miracle them.” Crowley dipped a finger into the whipped cream and popped it into his mouth. “It  _ is _ better without a miracle.”

“It is. Even better because you made it,” Aziraphale took a sip of cocoa and hummed cheerfully. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Do I need an occasion to bring my angel breakfast in bed?” Crowley spread a dark semi-liquid into one of the crepes, then sprinkled in strawberries. “Here.” He handed it to Aziraphale with a lovestruck grin. “Nutella.”

“Oh! Wonderful!” Aziraphale took it and bit into it, sighing with delight. “Darling, this is too much!”

“I hardly think so.” Crowley reached his hand under the tray and ran his fingers over the soft swell of Aziraphale’s stomach.

“ _ Crowley _ !” he laughed. “That tickles!” 

Crowley grabbed the tray to steady it as Aziraphale shifted with laughter.

“Sorry, dove. Just love you,” Crowley pecked the angel on the tip of his nose, then settled back against his side.

“I love you, too, my darling.” Aziraphale wrapped one arm around the demon, using the other to dig into the spread before him, feeding bites to his beloved as well.

That afternoon Aziraphale became twitchy, wringing his hands and acting jumpy at every noise. He puttered around the bookshop, glancing at the clock every five minutes. 

“Waiting for something, angel?” Crowley was lounged on Aziraphale’s chair which has been dragged out from the backroom into the shop.

“What? No, dear. What would I be waiting for?” Aziraphale stuttered, darting behind a shelf and tripping over a stack of books, catching himself on the row that housed his treasured Shakespeare texts.

“What’s got you spooked?” Crowley unfolded from the chair and trailed after his love.

“N-nothing at all!” Aziraphale insisted, visibly flustered. “Not spooked!”

Crowley reached out for the angel’s hand, but pulled back when Aziraphale yelped and twisted away from him, losing his balance and pitching backwards. Crowley leapt forwards and twisted himself around Aziraphale, unable to set him on his feet and settling for softening the blow, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other protecting his head from the impact against the floor.

They landed in a pile on the floor, Azirphale blinking up with blue eyes wide with shock.  
  
“What’s going on, dove?” Crowley lay on Aziraphale’s chest, looking up at him.  
  
“I- It was supposed to be a surprise,” Aziraphale murmured.

“What, dove?” Crowley slid off the angel and pulled them both up to sit against the bookshelf.

“We have a delivery coming today. Something special for you. To show you how much I love you.” Aziraphale had slipped his arm into the crook of Crowley’s elbow and rested his head on his shoulder.

“You already show me how much you love me. I don’t need any big grand gesture to know.” Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there.

“It’s not a full grand - oh, dear.” Aziraphale started without thinking, then caught himself, but not before ruining the surprise.

“Full grand… did you buy a piano?” Crowley gaped at him.  
  
Aziraphale’s face was scrunched in apology. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the surprise! Can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you? Dove, there’s nothing to forgive! You bought me a  _ piano _ !” Crowley’s face split into the biggest smile Aziraphale had seen him wear since he had confessed his love for the foolish demon.

“I saw how you looked when you were playing yesterday. I’ve rarely seen you so relaxed, so peaceful, so content. You were born to create art, my love, beautiful, glorious art! It’s not the same as making stars, but I will certainly appreciate it just as much!” Aziraphale had taken Crowley’s hand in his and was tracing lines across Crowley’s palm and down each finger, admiring their strength and gentleness.

“ _ Angel _ , I…” Crowley’s words failed him. Instead, he threw himself closer to Aziraphale, straddling his thighs, and pulling him by his lapels until their lips met. It was fast and passionate, pulling sighs and soft moans from their lips, holding each other close. When Crowley broke away, he beamed at the dazed and flustered expression on Aziraphale’s face. 

“I love you,” Crowley whispered against the angel’s cheek, brushing his lips lightly against the warm, bright pink skin there.

“I love you very much,” Aziraphale gazed up at him reverently.

Then came the knock at the door. 

The piano just barely fit through the doorway, being pushed and prodded along by four men in uniforms. They didn’t speak much, but they were highly efficient and had the piano rolled in and placed in what seemed like no time at all. Aziraphale couldn’t wipe the grin from his face if he tried, and Crowley has circled the piano the entire time it was being moved, watching carefully, inspecting, protecting, anticipating.

When the piano was settled and the quilted cover had been removed Crowley let out a whistle. The baby grand was brand new, white and glossy, with pristine keys and polished brass pedals. He gently raised the lid and propped it open, settling down on the bench before it, stretching his fingers out and running them along the ivories, playing a 3-octave C major scale with ease.

“Do you like it, dear?” Aziraphale perched on the bench beside him.

“I adore it, my dove.” Crowley shifted over and pulled Aziraphale further onto the bench. “I like the white.”

“I nearly went with black, as that does tend to be your color, but I thought the white would make you stand out more. Plus it’s a little flashy, and I thought you might appreciate that.” Aziraphale stretched out a hand and gingerly pressed a key, grinning at the sound it produced.

“So thoughtful. How did I get so lucky?”

“I do believe it’s ineffable.” 

Aziraphale smirked until his lips were claimed by a rather enamored demon.


	14. Be My Valentine

When Aziraphale woke the next morning Crowley was still asleep, arms wound around his plump middle, chin resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. The angel snuggled back against the demon’s chest, placing his hand over Crowley’s and breathed in the scent of him, deep and earthy, smokey and spiced. He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun spilling in through the split in the curtain. His heart felt full in a way he never knew was possible.

Of course he was a being of love, as angels were intended to be, but this was so different. To be able to wake up next to Crowley, to confess his love, to reach out and touch, to be filled with love from another being as much as he was giving, it was intoxicating, addicting. He would never tire of it, never get enough of it. He would remind Crowley of his love at every opportunity, would tell him and show him and reassure him every minute of every day.

He drifted off to sleep again, dreaming of all the ways he would demonstrate his love.

Crowley woke around late morning. His angel’s back was pressed against his chest and Crowley had an arm around his waist, holding him close. Aziraphale was still asleep, breathing deep and steady, a soft smile playing at his lips. 

“What’re you dreaming about, angel? I hope it’s me,” Crowley whispered. The sun was peeking in through the curtain panels that hung over the window. A shaft of warm, golden light lay across Aziraphale’s soft features, framing his head in a heavenly halo of pale curls. The soft roses on his cheeks all but sparkled in the light, like he had been dusted in flakes of pure gold.

Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck and placed three sweet kisses there.

After 6,000 years of breaking rules, of being a demon who loved, his angel was here, in his arms, asleep and vulnerable and knowing he was safe in this demon’s embrace. Aziraphale, who had tried to stay loyal to Heaven for so long, who had bitten back the questions that lay heavy on his tongue, who had defied heaven’s orders from a place of good intentions and angelic love, trusted him,  _ loved _ him. It was almost more than he could bear. He had fallen in love with Aziraphale completely in Eden and had had countless fantasies of confessing his feelings, touching the angel, kissing him, but all of that paled in comparison to this simple domesticity they had found together. 

He kissed the angel’s cheek and wriggled out of the sheets, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold wood of the floor. He suck away, knowing Azirpahale wouldn’t be asleep long without him. He had found that he enjoyed sleep, but wouldn’t do it on his own, only with Crowley. The demon wasn’t sure he was even aware of it, but he wasn’t going to complain. He treasured every moment he was able to spend with Aziraphale, especially when he could get lost in the feel, the warmth, the scent of the one he loved.

When Aziraphale woke again it was nearly noon. Crowley was gone, but had left a note on the side table. Aziraphale rolled onto his back and reached for it, smiling at the familiar scrawling handwriting that danced across the page.

  
  


_ Happy Valentine’s Day, my angel _

_ -C _

Aziraphale pressed the note against his heart, which had fluttered in his chest. Oh, to be loved was a glorious thing indeed. 

He replaced the note on the side table and swung his legs out of bed. He stood and ran a hand through his hair, then froze. There was a line of rose petals leading from the bed to the door. Azirphale grinned and followed it from the bedroom to the living room, down the stairs, and into the bookshop.

He hardly recognized it. The room seemed to be caught in a haze of romance, vines cling to bookshelves, potted trees stood tall and proud, and flowers were everywhere, creating the most enchanting forest in the middle of his shop.

Crowley was seated at the piano, dressed a suit that Aziraphale was sure must be new. A sleek black coat lay over a pressed white shirt and white trousers. Around his neck was a thin tie of gold and silver that disappeared behind a crimson vest. From his skillful hands flowed a romantic tune that must have been Debussy, but Aziraphale’s focus could not be pulled away from the sight before him long enough to remember its name. He softly padded over to the piano and leaned his elbow on it, supporting his chin as he admired the man before him, long red curls falling over his shoulders, his face soft, eyes closed, glasses nowhere in sight.

He was a heavenly vision and Aziraphale’s heart fluttered again, beating against his chest and causing a breath to escape from his lips.

Crowley opened his eyes, but kept playing, steady and gentle. His eyes didn’t look at the keys, but focused on the tartan pajama clad angel before him.

“I got your note,” Azirpahale said gently after the last note had rung and faded out. “This is beautiful.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Crowley was still staring at Aziraphale, unhindered adoration in his eyes.

“Oh, that would be you, my dear. You are very striking in that suit. I’m still in my pajamas!” Azirpahale laughed, gesturing to himself for emphasis.

“You in pajamas is one of my favorite things, dove. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this and I can’t get enough of it.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale onto his lap. “I’m glad you like the suit. Picked it out just for you, for today. Have something else for you, too.” Crowley reached behind his back and pulled a out bouquet of flowers. They were lovely, fragrant and bright, a rainbow of colors in different varieties. 

“Flowers!” Aziraphales gasped, a hand flying to cover his mouth, the other placed over his heart. “You are a true romantic Anthony J. Crowley!” He took the flowers reverently and inhaled the sweet scent, eyes fluttering closed.

“Only when it comes to you, my angel.” Crowley waved his hand and the flowers were in a vase on the piano, sitting next to the sheet music open on the stand.

“Rose petals, music, flowers, a brand new suit, I think you’re spoiling me!” Aziraphale teased.

“I’ve been spoiling you for thousands of years, but I’m glad you’ve finally noticed,” Crowley shot back with a warm smile.

“My dearest, darling, I love you.” Aziraphale pressed his palm to Crowley’s cheek, running a thumb over his sharp cheekbone.

“I love you so damn much, angel.” He brushed a chaste kiss against Aziraphale’s lips. “Better get dressed, we’ve got reservations.

“Reservations?! I thought you didn’t want to go out for Valentine’s day!” Aziraphale’s jaw had dropped, his eyes sparkling.

“I don’t think I’d mind the whole universe seeing you on my arm, knowing that you’re mine.” Crowley pulled the angel against his chest tightly for a few long moments, then released him. “Now, get dressed.”

Azirpahale nodded and flew up the stairs, pulling his new suit out of his wardrobe. They would make a handsome pair, Crowley wearing dark over light and Azirpahale wearing the opposite.

He pulled on the dark trousers, swiftly buttoned the pale blue shirt and cream vest. He carefully tied the sleek black bow tie around his neck and shrugged on the cream jacket, smoothing it down over the thin black lines that made up the wide tartan pattern.

He brushed his hair and made final adjustments in the mirror before returning to the bookshop.

Crowley stood in the center of the room, waiting for him.

“So handsome,” he complimented when Aziraphale reentered the room. “Here,”

He held a box out to the angel, wrapped in red and gold.

“More chocolates?” Aziraphale was glowing.

“Yeah. You liked the other ones so much I had to get you more,” Crowley shrugged.

“Thank you, my dear.” 

“And one more thing,” Crowley snapped and waved his hand in the air in a quick flick, producing a single red rose. “I promised you I’d get you a fresh one.”

“That you did,” Aziraphale concurred as Crowley pinned it to his lapel.

When the task was complete, Crowley stepped back and took Aziraphal'es soft, sturdy hands in his. 

“Aziraphale, I fell in love with you thousands of years ago and I will love you until long after this world has turned into a puddle of burning goo. I know that you love me, too, which is so much more than I could have ever expected or asked for and not a day will go by that I’m not in awe of that fact. My angel, my dove, my Aziraphale, will you be my Valentine?”

“Yes! For today and for eternity!” Azirpahale whispered through the tears that trickled down his cheeks. 

Crowley swept him up in his arms and kissed him. 

After all, isn’t that what Valentines are for?


	15. Delicacies

“You really can’t get good ones outside of Paris,” Aziraphale insisted as they strolled down a path by the river. It was a lovely day, despite the near discorporation - the sun was bright and warm on their faces, a crisp autumn breeze blowing gently through the trees.

“So you said,” Crowley smirked, watching Aziraphale adjust the soft red hat sitting over his pale curls, fiddling and fussing with it until it sat just so. The lace of his sleeves fell against his face as he lifted his arms and Crowley wondered what it would feel like to brush his hand against the angel's soft cheek. The sight of the angel wrapped in anything other than white and cream was something, but for him to be draped in red was something altogether new for Crowley. He had always liked the color, his favorite after black, but seeing Aziraphale in it was deliciously _sinful_.

“It’s true, Crowley!” Aziraphale turned toward the demon as they walked, a soft pout on his lips, his hands clasped behind the back of his red coat. “Have you ever _ had _ a crepe? I’ve tried them from all over London and they’re simply atrocious!” His eyes grew wide with exasperation, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Trudged all over the city in search of a decent crepe with none to be found. No one's fault, of course, they tried their best! Poor serving girls were always so kind, service with a smile and all that, I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth, they were working so hard. I did try to influence them, guide them, by dropping suggestions for a better recipe. Nothing worked!”

“You _ lied _??” Crowley’s eyes were huge behind his glasses, a wide awed smile across his face.

“No!” Aziraphale drew back in offense, hand pressed to his heart, then dropped it. “Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose so. But,” Aziraphale held up a finger to Crowley to stop the remark waiting on his forked tongue, “it was in kindness. No need to spread frustration or anger over a less than ideal meal.”

“What about your _standards _?” Crowley over-enunciated the last word in good-natured mocking, his smile still broad across his sharp features.

“_Crowley _,” Aziraphale huffed, rolling his eyes. “At least I’m not sporting those ridiculous rolls!” He gestured to Crowley’s hair with a scoff.

“What? You don’t like it?” Crowley asked, one eyebrow raised over his glasses.

“It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Aziraphale tutted as his lips fought the urge to smirk.

_ “A bit much _?” Crowley howled in laughter. “Funny thing to say for someone who was almost discorporated because he was dressed to the nines, draped in satin and lace! Don’t think I didn’t notice those shoes, angel.” Crowley lowered his dark lenses to wink at Aziraphale, leaving him sputtering.

“Fine,” Crowley conceded, snapping his fingers to let his hair fall in amber curls around his face. “Better?”

Aziarphale studied him for a moment, then looked away, glancing back at him sidelong before responding with a quick nod.

“Good. Wouldn’t want to fall below your standards,” Crowley sauntered along beside the angel, light footed and chuckling. He loved to tease Aziraphale. Loved to see the scandalized look in his eyes, hear the soft gasp, feel the bright eyes on him, catch the hint of a smile. Did he enjoy this game of theirs as well?

“You never could, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly, a pink tint on the apples of his cheeks. His hand drifted closer to Crowley’s for a moment, brushing against the back of the demon's hand. A shiver ran through Crowley from crown to heel, like an electric shock, and Aziraphale pulled his hand away, once again clasping them behind his back.

“So, where are these crepes you were willing to die for?” Crowley cleared his throat and kept his voice even.

“Oh, just around the corner,” Aziraphale smiled and glanced at Crowley again, a tight grin on his lips, suppressing a wide smile at the sight of the sun turning his amber curls into a halo of flame. “Do you remember Rome?”

“Rome?” Crowley repeated, thrown by the change of subject.

“Yes. We had oysters,” Azirpahale wiggled happily at the memory. 

“Petronius,” Crowley added, earning a blinding smile from the angel. “‘Course I remember.”

“It was scrumptious!” Aziraphale’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Crowley nearly fainted. If he survived this day, it would be a miracle. Whether it would be angelic or demonic, he wasn't sure, but it would be a miracle.

“Wine was pretty good.” Crowley’s voice was high and cracked. 

“It was,” Aziraphale chuckled, choosing not to acknowledge Crowley's evident panic. “I’m sure this meal will be as lovely as that one.”

“Lovely how?” Crowey stopped outside the restaurant, watching Aziraphale’s face, which was nostalgic and hopeful.

“Didn’t you think it was lovely?” Aziraphale asked, shifting to the side slightly, so he could see Crowley’s eyes behind his glasses.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I mean it was alright,” Crowley stuttered.

“It wasn’t just the meal. The company was quite lovely as well, don’t you agree?” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled with mischief and something else that the demon couldn’t quite place, but made fire pulse through his veins.

“Of course,” Crowley choked out, swallowing hard.

“Shall we?” Aziraphale gestured to the door.

“Let’s hope these crepes are up to your standard. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, especially after all the troubles we went through to get here,” Crowley pulled open the door for Aziraphale, bowing slightly, red hair falling forward around his face.

“Oh, my dear, a meal with you could never be disappointing!” The angel smiled warmly at the demon and strode inside, leaving a blushing, sputtering mess trailing along after him.

The crepes were exceptional, as was the company.

Crowley watched Azirpahale enjoy the crepes from across the table, cataloguing every sound he made as he enjoyed the spectacular meal. His heart raced at the shape the angel’s lips formed around each mouthful.

Crowley drank quite extraordinary amounts of wine to cope. His corporation was nearly vibrating with the desire to take the angel's hand, to whisper into his ear how much he wanted him, to lean over the table and taste the crepes from those soft lips. 

And those blue eyes, the way they glittered and glanced, almost like flirting. 

But that couldn’t be it.

Could it?

No.

This was just about crepes...


	16. Flowers

In Eden it was a single blue blossom left on the wall, almost the same shade as his eyes.

After the flood receded and the earth became green again, it was a bouquet of fragrant jasmine.

In Golgotha, a single white lily lay conspicuously on the table in his room, in mourning.

After oysters in Rome, once the other had departed, a pale pink rose lay on the table beside his hand.

Upon his return to the table round, a small pot of clematis with its soft white petals striped in red and pink was waiting for him.

Rosemary and pansies were found after a visit to the Globe.

He could almost hear that sly laugh when he found white rose fringed with red after the Bastille.

The Blitz brought a bundle of purple hyacinth, wrapped in a black ribbon and tucked into a bag of books. 

A vase full of hydrangeas was sitting on his desk when he returned home after delivering a thermos.

The years brought many flowers in all shades and varieties and Aziraphale treasured every one. He had a book, tucked away in his desk drawer, where he pressed them. Around each bloom he wrote the date and location as well as notes about what they had done or what they had eaten. He brought out the book every time he felt lonely, leafing through the pages and smiling at the memories. He remembered the flashes of smiles, the warm laughter, the biting comments, and the questions. There were always questions.

And as he stood in Crowley’s flat, he found he had one of his own.

“Why don’t you have any flowers?”

“What do you mean? Got a whole room full of plants right here!” Crowley’s head had fallen to one side as he spread his arms out, gesturing to the greenery around them. They were lush and beautiful and seemed to turn a brighter shade of green when the angel was around.

“Plants, yes, but no flowers,” Aziraphale pointed out, circling the room slowly, giving each plant a smile and a bit of praise.

“Your point?” Crowley watched as Aziraphale admired the plants.

“No point, really, just an observation.” Aziraphale replied distantly, running his fingers lightly over the leaves of a very strong fern. “Seems strange.”

“Strange how?” Crowley pressed gently.

“You always gave me flowers, yet you have none.” Aziraphale turned and looked at Crowley. The dark glasses were missing, allowing the angel to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“Dunno, never thought about it.” Crowley shrugged and picked up the mister, turning back to the plants and away from Aziraphale.

“Are you sure there’s no reason?” Aziraphale’s hand settled over Crowley’s pausing his work.

“No reason,” Crowley repeated with conviction.

“My dear,” Aziraphale took the mister and set it down, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “May I show you something?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and with a wave of his hand a book appeared. It was very old, with thick parchment pages. The cover was a charcoal grey with edges worn from years of use.

“I saved them. All of them. Every flower you gave me, or at least one from each bouquet. I pressed them all here.” Aziraphale ran a hand lovingly over the book’s cover, then held it out to Crowley.

The demon took it and opened it to the first page. _ Eden _ the heading read in Aziraphale’s sweeping script, followed by _ After temptation, meeting, first rain _ . _ Can demons be kind? _

He slowly turned each page, his long fingers running over the dried flowers and ink, the memories playing out in his mind. He felt the same overwhelming rush he felt when they first met, when they first dined together, when they created the Arrangement, when they agreed to influence the antichrist together, when he thought he’d lost the angel, and when he had him back again. 

Aziraphale placed his hand against Crowley’s cheek.

“Why are you crying?” There was concern lining his eyes, his brows furrowed.

“You saved them. Every single one. Why?” Crowley asked.

“Because they were important to me. You’re important to me,” Aziraphale whispered.

“What about opposite sides?” Crowley closed the book so he wouldn’t spoil it with his tears. “I couldn’t have been important to you all the way back in Eden.”

“I didn’t know then what you would come to mean to me, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t know you were special. A demon who was kind, clever, and beautiful. You were everything I was told demons were not.” Aziraphale shifted towards Crowley, twining his arms around his thin waist, setting his head against Crowley’s shoulder. “Any other demon would have destroyed me on the spot, but not you. You started a conversation, shared a bit of yourself with me, and I was drawn to you.”

“_ Angel _,” Crowley murmured into the halo of soft curls. “I didn’t know.”

“I hid it. I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to keep it safe from Heaven. It was my private journal. All the important moments of my life are in there and they all involve you.” Aziraphale shifted back to press a kiss to Crowley’s tear-stained cheek. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why don’t you have any flowers?”

“I - you - dunno.” Crowley stammered, eyes dropping away from Aziraphale’s.

“Darling, is it because you think I deserve them and you don’t?” His blue eyes were rimmed with pain and mourning.

“Maybe,” Crowley mumbled. “You’re so good and you like nice things. I just wanted to make you happy.”

“But it never occurred to you that you deserve happiness, too?” Aziraphale inquired.

“Seeing you happy makes me happy. I don’t need flowers,” Crowley shrugged.

“Crowley, you deserve them, too. The beauty, the fragrance, the lovely memories, you deserve all the beautiful things that earth has to offer.” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed Crowley, slow and sweet, showing him exactly what he meant. “If I may, I’d like to add to your collection.”

Aziraphale snapped and waved his hand again, producing a black pot filled with deep red tulips.

“You make my life beautiful, you fill it with color, and love, and now I do the same for you.” He placed the pot into Crowley’s hands, curling his fingers around it.

“You already do, angel. You have, ever since Eden.” Crowley’s eyes were focused on the flowers in his hands.

“Well, now you have a very small token to remind you of my very great love for you.”

He watched as Crowley nestled the tulips in with the other plants, a jolt of red smiling out from among the greenery. Crowley stared at it for a few moments, then, without warning, he turned on his heel and kissed Aziraphale deeply. The angel gasped and hummed against warm lips as his fingertips brushed along the skin of Crowley’s jaw and tangled into his hair.


	17. Pillow Talk

“Angel?” Crowley murmured, eyes still closed, arm moving, trying to find his partner. They lay in bed on a chilly Sunday morning, which were Crowley's favorite because Aziraphale couldn't pretend to open the shop and would stay in bed with him.

“Right here, my love,” the angel shifted closer, laying his his against Crowley’s chest and feeling an arm wrap around his shoulders.

“Morning,” Crowley cracked one eye open, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “Did you sleep?”

“I did,” Azirpahale softly drew swirls over Crowley’s naked chest with his fingers. He had taken to sleeping without a shirt, wearing only black silk trousers, preferring the heavenly warmth of his angel to keep him warm.

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed, pulling him closer, basking in his warmth. “Good. You awake yet?” His hand drifted up and pulled on Azirpahale’s until their fingers entwined.

“Yes, dear.” 

“M’not. Want to help me?” Crowley rolled over, shifting Aziraphale off of his chest, and capturing his lips.

Crowley was warm and soft against Aziraphale as he lazily tasted the angel. He licked and nipped along Aziraphale’s bottom lip, earning him a small gasp and quiet moan. Crowley’s hand brushed down his arm and grabbed at the angel’s waist, pulling him closer as he slid his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth, swirling around slowly. He groaned when the angel’s tongue tied with his, their mouths pressing further together with a slow urgency. Hands tangled in hair, kisses were pressed to cheeks, necks, and jawlines, fingers left goosebumps as they trailed along the skin of arms, shoulders, and backs, legs entangled.

Aziraphale pulled back, panting, pressing his forehead to Crowley’s.

“Awake now, my love?” 

“Almost,” Crowley smirked, diving back in.

The kissing had devolved into tickling, which had settled into serene cuddling, each wrapped comfortably into each other’s embrace. They breathed together, relishing in the scent, the feel, the love of the other.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” Aziraphale said softly against Crowley’s hair. “No matter what form you took or how you wore your hair, each was gorgeous.”

“Nkg, angel!” Crowley blushed fiercely.

“It’s true, Crowley. Of course, that’s not why I fell in love with you. That was your wit, your cleverness, your kindness, the goodness at the core of you, despite your demonic nature”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley tickled along the back of Aziraphale’s neck, causing the angel to tense and flail, shoving Crowley’s face by accident.

“Oh, love! I’m so sorry!” He apologized, pressing gentle kisses at the point of impact.

“S’okay. My fault.” Crowley sighed into the angel’s affection.

“It’s all true, my dear. You know that, don’t you?” Aziraphale settled back down against Crowley.

“Yeah. Do you?” Crowley asked.

“Do I what?”

“Know that you’re beautiful?” Crowley shifted so they were laying face to face.

“I like my corporation, it serves me well. I don’t need to be aesthetically pleasing, just functional,” Aziraphale recited, as if he’d used that line in Heaven thousands of times before, which he probably had.

“Angel,” Crowley frowned, “what bullshit is that?”

“The truth.”

“Total bullshit. You really don’t see it do you?” Crowley shifted up onto one elbow. “You know I love you for more than your looks, but let me tell you what I love most about your corporation.” He took Aziraphale’s hand in his. “Your hands are soft and strong, they hold mine as if they were made for me. They are powerful with a sword and gentle with antique pages. They reach out and comfort, as do your arms.” Crowley’s fingers danced up the length of Aziraphale’s arm, causing goosebumps to spring up in their wake. “These arms that hold and protect, that carry and support, that are strong enough to fight for the world and soft enough to reassure a crying child. Broad shoulders to cry on, to laugh on, to fall asleep on.” His long fingers trailed across a shoulder and down the angel’s chest. “This chest that houses the most beautiful heart and soul ever created. The chest that puffs up in pride at the ingenuity and kindness of humanity and sags with their failures and cruelty.” Aziraphale giggled and tried to pull away as Crowley’s featherlight touch reached his soft belly. “This stomach that has held all of the meals we shared together, that has given you so much joy.” Crowley leaned in and pressed a kiss there, then shifted down to continue his adoration. “These thighs, _ oh these thighs_!’ Crowley pinched them, smirking as Aziraphale flinched with a laugh. “These sturdy legs that have carried you around the world, that have run to help those in need, that have kneeled down to comfort the dying and ill, that have danced with rejoicing.” His fingers ran down past the knee and shin. “These feet that have brought you back to me time after time.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of each foot, then slithered back up, focused on Aziraphale’s face. “And my favorite is here. This hair, a constant halo, that makes you easy to spot in a crowd, letting me know you’re still there, you’re still safe. These eyes that show every emotion, that sparkle and crinkle when you’re happy, and droop and water when you’re sad. This nose,” Crowley gently pressed his finger to the tip, earning him a chuckle, ”that has breathed in the scents of every flower I’ve given, every meal we’ve shared, always curious. These soft cheeks that grow pink when flustered.” He kissed each gently, then ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “And these lips. I could go on for ages about these lips. Every word that has passed through them, every blessing, each soothing syllable, the whispers, the shouts of joy, the way you press them together when you’re annoyed. And the beautiful way they kiss.” Crowley pressed his lips chastely against the angel’s. “So soft and warm, tempting and inviting. Teasing and giving.” He kissed him again, wrapping his hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck.

“Angel, Aziraphale, you are beautiful. You are gorgeous. You are stunning.” The angel’s eyes were beginning to leak tears down his cheek. “You are kind and generous and loving and so clever and surprising and wonderful. And you are _ beautiful _.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley and buried his face against his chest.

“Do you believe me?” Crowley asked, running fingers through pale curls.

“My dear, I just might. You may need to remind me from time to time, but I believe you.”

“I will remind you every day, angel.”


	18. Playful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing Nanny & Francis and it was more difficult that I thought it would be. I'm not sure if I got their characters quite right, but it was fun for the first attempt!

“C’mon, Nanny!” Warlock yelled from the yard, standing at the edge of the garden and bouncing on his toes. He had been instructed to wait there and go no further, but his entire body was vibrating with energy and excitement. Brother Francis had offered to lead them on a nature walk through the grounds and the young boy couldn’t wait to explore.

“Coming, dear,” Nanny called back, glancing into the mirror by the door to straighten her hat over her red hair just so. She grabbed her umbrella with the intricate parrot head handle and headed out into the warm summer sunshine. “Don’t you take one more step, young man,” she warned, keeping her pace steady. "You know I won't chase after you." Her usually long stride was shortened by her skirt, and she was already too warm under her layers of black.

“I’m not!” Warlock called, inching his way past the garden to Brother Francis’ small house on the edge of the property.

“Lisssten to me,” Nanny hissed, hitting her umbrella against the ground once for emphasis. Warlock froze and made a face. “Better.” 

“Oh, Miss Ashtoreth,” a jolly voice chided, “let him have a little fun!’

Brother Francis strode over to them, goofy smile on his face, teeth protruding, bushy eyebrows wiggling.

“Ready for an adventure, young master Warlock?” Francis leaned down and set his hands on his knees, giving Warlock a broad smile.

“Yes, Brother Francis!” Warlock resumed his bouncing.

“Alright, let’s see which of God’s creatures we can find today,” he straightened up, winked at Nanny and held out his hand for Warlock, who took it and started pulling Francis along.

“Will we see a lion? Or a whale? Nanny says whales have big brains. Is that true, Brother Francis?” he chattered as he pulled Francis along behind him, weaving between the gardens and trees.

“I don’t think we’ll see a lion, at least I hope not.” Francis’ accent faltered for a moment, growing a bit more sophisticated, remembering a past experience with the large cat.

“No, dear. No lions,” Nanny purred, pulling Francis out of his reverie. 

“Just small creatures here.” Francis gave a grateful smile to Nanny, who nodded in return, a slight smirk pulling up at one side of her red lips. “Look, there’s brother squirrel,” he squatted down next to Warlock, pointing out the animals as he saw them. “And sister bluebird with her beautiful song.”

Warlock took off, trying to get closer to the squirrel, which ran up the nearest tree.

“Why did it run away?” Warlock asked sadly staring into the branches above him.

“He was afraid. You’re bigger than him, you see, and you scared him. He doesn’t know that you just want to be friends.” Francis patted Warlock on top of his messy hair.

“Can you tell him for me?” Warlock asked, tugging on Francis’ hand and staring up with big eyes.

“I’ll do my best,” Francis smiled at him, hearing a chuckle from Nanny, who was seated on a bench nearby, legs crossed neatly, hands perched on her knee, a single eyebrow visible above her dark glasses.

“Brother squirrel, this is brother Warlock. He didn’t mean to frighten you, he just wanted to say hello. We understand that you’re cautious, but if you wanted to say hello, we won’t hurt you.” Francis spoke to the tree. Nanny snorted and covered up the sound with a delicate cough into her red lace handkerchief.

“I do believe he’s taking a nap. Maybe he’ll come say hello later.” Francis took Warlock’s hand and continued their stroll.

“Wait!” Warlock stopped, staring up at Francis, little brow furrowed.

“What is it?”

“Nanny! She needs to hold a hand!” Warlock looked behind Francis to where Nanny was strolling up to them.

“Of course, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Francis smiled at the gesture and turned to wait for Nanny to catch up. “He would like to hold your hand, Miss Ashtoreth.”

“No!” Warlock cried. “You hold her hand, Brother Francis!”

“Oh!” Francis blushed, but held out his hand to Nanny, who took it easily in her grasp. They strolled silently, hands swinging gently between them, as Warlock tugged them along the path.

“I hope this isn’t too uncomfortable Miss Ashtoreth,” Francis said with an apologetic smile as Warlock bent down to observe a snail.

“No need to worry, Brother Francis. It’s quite alright.” Nanny winked at him and smiled as she watched the pink creep up into his cheeks. She squeezed his hand and let him to the shade of a nearby tree. “Warlock, why don’t you play for a while. We’re going to rest. Be sure to wreak havoc as you go!” She called over to her young charge.

“Okay, Nanny!” Warlock yelled back with a wave and a huge grin, then took off running, scaring a few birds that were hopping around nearby.

“It’s good to let him have fun, be playful, while he’s still able to be a child.” Francis dropped his accent and mannerisms, his hands folding properly in front of him, his voice even and sophisticated. 

“He’s not a child, not really.” Nanny stated, voice dropping. “He’s something else entirely.”

“I know, but he should be allowed to play, at least for a little while. Maybe a bit of normalcy will do him good,” Francis mused, watching Warlock roll through the grass, howling with laughter.

“Maybe.” Nanny’s voice was tight, as were her lips, pressed into a line.

“Come, my dear. I think you need a little bit of normalcy, too. Maybe be playful yourself.” Francis stepped into the sun and held out his hand to her.

“M’good, thanks.”

“I’m afraid you’re not. This seems quite serious. I’m worried about you.” There was a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Nanny’s thin waist. He lifted her off her feet and spun her around.

Nanny held tightly to Francis’ shoulders and screamed as Francis laughed. He spun and spun until he lost his balance, falling flat on his back with Nanny landing on top of him.

“I’m very sorry, my dear. I lost my footing,” he was still laughing, eyes bright and rimmed with lines of joy. The sun turned his hair a lovely golden hue and Nanny was struck by how beautiful he was.

“S’okay, angel.” She smiled down on him softly, then muttered something.

“What was that?” Francis peered up at her.

“I said, it was fun.” Nanny grimaced as she said it, but Francis knew there was a smile lurking somewhere below the surface.

“I’m so glad,” he replied, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Best tidy ourselves up, I should think.”

“Of course,” Nanny’s voice returned, but her expression didn’t change. Instead of getting up, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Francis’ cheek.

That night she found a single red rose lying on her bedside table along with a note that said _You look lovely when you're playful._


	19. Candy Hearts

Crowley woke one morning to find the other half of the bed empty. He groaned and rolled over, trying to find the heat the angel may have left behind. He could tell that Aziraphale had been up for quite a while because there was no heavenly warmth to be found in the sheets.

“Probably reading,” Crowley muttered, folding his legs up towards his chest and pulling the blankets over him snugly. “Or shelving. Or drinking cocoa. Keeping all the warmth for himself.” Crowley smiled to himself as he complained to no one. He thought of the angel, wearing his silly spectacles, lost in a book, his lips moving along with the words on the page. Of him stretching out on his tiptoes to place a book on a high shelf, his tongue just poking out of his lips in concentration. Of the the gentle curl of his hands around that white mug, with its silly angel wings, inhaling the sweet scent of chocolate. He might have added a hint of peppermint today, if he was feeling adventurous. Crowley shook his head and felt something shift on the pillow beside him.

He reached over, hand searching, until it found something. He grabbed it and brought it to his face, cracking an eye open to see what it was.

A small blue candy heart had been left on the pillow for him to find.

_ Good Morning _ was printed across it in block letters, barely fitting on the small candy. 

“Soft angel,” he chuckled, pushing back the blankets and setting his feet on the floor. He yawned and stretched, then pushed himself out of bed. Out of the corner of his eye he spied another candy heart on his bedside table. This one was pink and read _ I <3 U _.

Crowley set them into the pocket of his pajamas and left the bedroom. As he walked, he felt something against the bottom of his foot. 

“What the heaven…?” he muttered, pulling another heart off of his sole. Purple with the words _ Be Mine _. “What are you playing at, angel?”

Crowley looked ahead and saw that there was a whole trail of candy hearts leading to the landing and down the stairs. 

He made his way slowly, pausing to pick up each candy heart, read it, and tuck it into his pocket. Halfway down the stairs he snapped his fingers and transferred the candies from his overfilled pocket to the small red velvet pouch that appeared in his hand.

He followed the trail of hearts to the shop and found Aziraphale shelving books, looking perfectly domestic. He wasn’t wearing his coat or cardigan. His bowtie hung, untied, around his neck, the top button enticingly undone, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which were cradling books.

“Morning, angel.”

“Oh, Crowley! You’re awake!” Aziraphale beamed at him, nearly shining with heavenly light. He placed the books down and hurried over to peck Crowley on the cheek. “How did you sleep?”

“Great. What’s all this about?” he held up the pouch and let a few of the candies fall into his palm.

“Did you like it?” Aziraphale took one of the candies from Crowley’s hand and studied it fondly. “Was it silly? I had hoped it would be romantic. I’ve always thought they were quite darling. Tiny, edible hearts, that also doubled as a letter of sorts, sending messages to loved ones. The taste leaves something to be desired, but quite clever, I always thought.”

“It was sweet.” Crowley took the heart from Aziraphale’s hand. He thought for a moment, then held the heart with one hand and the angel’s chin with the other. He gently pushed the candy heart past those soft lips and into Aziraphale’s mouth, his eyes wide with surprise. “Taste.”

Aziraphale chewed and made a delighted giggle as he registered the flavor.

“Chocolate! Oh, Crowley!” he beamed up at him.

“We’ve got a whole bag full, can’t let them go to waste, can we?” Crowley winked and led Aziraphale to the couch in the back room. “Feel free to make flavor suggestions. I’m bound to run out of ideas.”

The two snuggled together on the couch, covered with a tartan blanket. Crowley spent the next hour feeding Aziraphale candy hearts one at a time, giving them each one of Aziraphale’s favorite flavors - fresh strawberries, dark chocolate, bright lemon cake, salted caramel, warm vanilla, cooling mint, tart cherry, and more. Aziraphale hummed and giggled as each new flavor burst across his tongue, surprising and delighting him.

“Oh, Crowley, this is wonderful.” Aziraphale was glowing. “But how on earth did you manage to turn my gesture of love for you into one for me?”

“M’quite clever, angel.” Crowley winked at him as he held another heart to the angel’s lips.

“That you are, my dear. Oh, pear! I like pears!” Aziraphale cooed as he swallowed the candy.

“I know, angel.” Crowley chuckled.

“Might I feed you one, my dear?” Aziraphale shifted away from Crowley, his eyes questioning. “I know you don’t eat often, but I would like to give you one. They are your gift after all.”

“Sure, anything for you.” Crowley handed him the pouch.

Aziraphale took it and sorted through the hearts still left inside, searching for the perfect one.

“Ah!” he breathed in triumph, settling the pouch on his lap and taking Crowley’s hand in his. “For you, my dear.”

He gently placed a kiss to Crowley’s palm, then placed the heart there.

It was a deep pink, as red as a pastel candy heart could be.

“Kiss Me,” Crowley read.

He looked up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, which were shy and full of adoration, his cheeks pink, his lips parted.

“Gladly, angel.” Crowley whispered, wrapping a hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and pulling him in. They sighed into the kiss and Crowley scooped Aziraphale up and placed him across his lap, pressing a hand against his back to keep him steady. “You know you don’t need, mm, a candy heart, mm, to kiss me.” Crowley said between kisses.

“I know, dear.” Aziraphale sighed as the demon left kisses along his cheek and forehead. “Though I don’t see you arguing.”

“Nope.” Crowley dove back down to Aziraphale’s lips, then pulled away. “Never did get that candy, though.” A smirk spread across his features as he saw the angel’s mussed hair and well-kissed lips.

“Of course! Here,” Aziraphale held the candy out for Crowley to take, which he did with a flick of his forked tongue.

“Coffee,” he smiled. “You’re such a softie, angel, and I love you.”

“I love you too, Crowley.”


	20. Reservation Gone Wrong

“Angel! We’re going to be late!” Crowley leaned against the door of the bookshop, arms crossed, toe tapping impatiently.

“I’m coming, dear!” Aziraphale called.

“How is it you’d say it? Get a wiggle on?” Crowley leaned his head back against the door.

The bookshop had just opened a week ago. Crowley had tried to stop by on the day of the grand opening, but Gabriel and Sandalphon had stopped by to pay Aziraphale a visit, so he retreated. He called Aziraphale later, telling him he’d take him out for a celebratory dinner once they were sure the angels weren’t coming back.

“Really now, there’s no need to be cranky!” Aziraphale strode to the door wearing his very best cream suit and pale blue waistcoat. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait. I’ve heard such wonderful things about their dishes!” He placed a cream top hat on his head and bounced out the door Crowley was holding open.

“Reservation was nearly half an hour ago,” Crowley muttered as they walked.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, my dear. You’ll see to it, won’t you?” Aziraphale smiled slyly.

“Me? Why not you? You’re the one who made us late!” Crowley sputtered.

“You know I can’t use frivolous miracles, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s tone scolded, but it was more hopeful than anything.

“Neither can I,” Crowley snapped.

“Why not? Did Head Office send you a rude note?” Aziraphale retorted, hands wringing.

“You know my lot don’t do that. And no, I’ve just decided.” Crowley strode at his full length, keeping Aziraphale scurrying to keep up.

“Just _ decided _? Now of all days?” Aziraphale’s face was turning red, whether from anger or exertion, it wasn’t clear.

“Yeah, today of all days!” Crowley hissed. “There were angels in your shop just a week ago trying to send you back to Heaven! Maybe we should cool it with the whole miracle thing.”

“Well, can’t we start that tomorrow? This restaurant is very popular. If they’ve given away our table, I’m afraid we won’t be able to get in without a miracle!” Aziraphale had resorted to pouting, trying to guilt Crowley into keeping their spot, but he wouldn’t be so easily swayed this time. 

“S’your fault, s’up to you to fix it.” Crowley shrugged.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

When they arrived at the restaurant, it was packed. It took a few minutes to push past all of the bodies blocking their way to the maitre’d.

“Reservation for Fell,” Aziraphale smiled cheerily.

“No such reservation," was the cool, even, slightly bored, reply.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. It will be under Crowley.”

“You’re late,” the maitre’d raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh, yes, I’m terribly sorry! You see, there was a -” Aziraphale tried to explain, but was cut off.

“Your table has been given to another party.” The maitre'd flipped the page in the reservation book with a _swish_.

“Is there another table available?” Aziraphale’s face crumpled.

“No.”

“Another available reservat-”

“No.”

“What can we do?” Aziraphale tried one last time.

“Be on time. Have a nice day, gentlemen.” The maitre’d smiled politely and turned to the next party in line.

Aziraphale slumped out of the restaurant, Crowley slinking along behind him.

“You could have done something,” Aziraphale seemed on the verge of tears.

“You could have, too,” Crowley stated rather coldly.

“We came all the way here! And after you missed the grand opening!” Aziraphale flung himself down on the nearest stoop, head in hands.

“Is that why you’re so upset? You know why I had to miss the opening.” Crowley stood above him, unsure what to do.

“I know! I understand! But I - I - I wanted you there!” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with bleary eyes.

“You never said.” Crowley sat beside him, long legs folding in.

“I couldn’t. It wasn’t safe for you. It would have been terribly selfish,” Aziraphale sniffled.

“Why?”

“Because you could have gotten hurt!” Aziraphale looked at Crowley in confusion, wondering how he didn't already know this.

“Not that, angel. Why did you want me there?” Crowley was glad for the protection of his dark glasses, his eyes wide behind them. Aziraphale grew still and quiet, staring at his hands, wringing in his lap.

“6,000 years is a long time to know someone. It’s a long time to live among humans. Their lives are so short, it’s best not to get invested. You’re the only other being on earth that understands. The only one I would have liked to celebrate with. Bought a special bottle of champagne for the occasion.”

“Aziraphale, you should have told me. I would have been there.” Crowley softened, wishing he hadn’t been so cold to the angel earlier.

“I know, and that’s why I couldn’t say anything. You would have been in danger and I couldn’t put you in that position.”

“C’mon, angel.” Crowley stood and offered a hand down to Aziraphale.

“Where are we going?” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, but he took Crowley’s hands and let himself be lifted to his feet.

“We’ve got a bottle of champagne to enjoy. We’ll pick up something to eat on the way.”

“I’m terribly sorry, my dear. I treated you so poorly today. Can you forgive me?” Aziraphale drained his glass and stared imploringly at Crowley, whose glasses were set on the table beside four empty bottles.

“S’alright, angel. I wasn’t so nice myself. Which I never am. ‘Cause I’m a demon.” Crowley drawled, waving his hands around, sloshing the liquid inside his glass.

“I think this is better than some busy restaurant, anyway,” Aziraphale smiled as he gazed into Crowley’s yellow eyes.

“Me, too.” Crowley stared back, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.


	21. Devil with the Blue Dress On

Aziraphale sat at the bar, hands wrapped around a glass of something he didn’t intend to drink. It was dark and loud and he felt extremely out of place, but he was hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain redhead. It had been a year since he had reluctantly handed over a thermos and uttered words that had broken his heart to say.

He had hoped that the reconciliation might mean that he’d see more of Crowley, but his words had driven a wedge between them. Despite the glasses, the pain on Crowley’s face was clear. Over the past year Aziraphale had tried to convince himself that it was better this way, that he was right to put space between them, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had destroyed something delicate.

He had promised a picnic, a dinner at the Ritz. Was that enough to give Crowley the push he needed to keep going? Could he give the demon hope? Was it enough?

He sighed into his glass, contemplating trying it, when he heard a familiar sound.

“Angel?” the voice was a bit higher, but he’d know it no matter what.

“Crowley?” he turned to see the demon, leaning against the bar, smiling at him. _ Smiling _.

“What the heaven are you doing here?” The laugh was sincere as Crowley slid onto the stool beside him.

“Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about,” Aziraphale tried to lie, but he was terribly distracted. Crowley’s hair was shoulder length and hung in loose curls around her face, on which she wore large black sunglasses. She wore a skin-tight black dress that fell just below the knee. It had thin straps, a low neckline, a belted waist, and hugged every curve in the most _sinful_ way.

Crowley cleared her throat and crossed one long leg over the other, showing off her red pumps. She leaned back against the bar and tossed her hair back over her shoulder, exposing the inviting line of her neck. Aziraphale slid his glass over and Crowley took it, downing it in one.

“And what do you think?” she asked.

“Seems a bit… loud.” Aziraphale focused on the crowd of dancers and cleared his throat.

“It is a bit loud, angel. It’s a club!’ Crowley laughed and waved to the bartender for another drink, which were rushed over to her by a man who was practically drooling over her. Aziraphale shot him a look and he moved on to the next customer, eyeing the angel disbelievingly. “What are you really doing here? Not looking for me, were you?”

“Well - I - erm - actually, yes.” Azirapahle stammered, hands wringing furiously in his lap.

“I was teasing. Really?” Crowley sat up and looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I hadn’t heard from you since, well, since the heist.”

“You were worried that I’d used… it.” It was a statement, but it hung like a question. Aziraphale looked up at her in answer, worry lines etched across his face. “Angel, I told you, it’s just for insurance. It’s not a suicide pill. It’s for protection.”

Crowley placed a red-nailed hand over Aziraphale’s and gave him a small smile.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, my dear, it’s just…” the angel trailed off.

“I know.” Crowley squeezed his hand, letting the matter fall. He didn’t need to finish the sentence, she could see it all in his eyes. She could feel the anxiety, the worry, the regret, he didn’t need to put it into words.

Aziraphale returned her smile and it reached his eyes, filled with relief. He was forgiven and Crowley was safe. It was far more than he felt he deserved.

The music shifted and Crowley smirked.

“Do you know this song, angel?”

“You know that I don’t.” Aziraphale tutted with a side glance.

“I think you might like it,” she lowered her glasses down her long nose to look at him. “C’mon. Dance with me.”

She stood and offered her hand.

“You know I don’t dance!” Aziraphale glanced around, embarrassed.

“Doesn’t matter, barely counts as dancing anyway. Please?” She extended her arm further toward him and he took it hesitantly. 

Once he was on his feet she dragged him to the dance floor, a wide grin lighting up her features. She draped her arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders, taller than usual in her red heels.

“Don’t be so stiff, angel!” She laughed, taking his hands and placing them on her waist. “Just move to the music!”

Aziraphale was blushing crimson. They rarely touched and never in such a public place.

“It’s okay, Aziraphale.” Crowley leaned in to speak into the angel’s ear. “No one here to watch us. Even if they were, I doubt they could find us. Just have some fun!”

Aziraphale shifted from foot to foot and found that he was enjoying himself. Crowley was safe, alive, so very close, and happy to see him, happy to be seen with him in this way.

“It’s not quite right, I’m afraid,” he said, mostly to himself.

“What do you mean?” Crowley inquired.

“The song says blue dress,” he responded as the voices sang

_ Devil with the blue dress, _ _   
_ _ blue dress, blue dress,  
__Devil with the blue dress on_

“Is that all?” Crowley threw back her head in laughter, then leaned in to whisper in Azirahale’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “I can fix that.”

She snapped her fingers and her dress fluttered from shoulders to knees, transforming into a pale blue. Her sunglasses and pumps shifted to a shiny gold. She rubbed her lips together and her dark red lipstick became a soft pink.

She took half a step back and twirled slowly, showing off her new outfit.

“Like what you see?” she asked, draping her arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders again.

All Aziraphale could do was nod and stare at her with open adoration.

_ Wearin' her perfume, Chanel No. 5 _

_ Got to be the finest thing alive _

_ Walks real cool, catches everybody's eye _

_ Catch you too nervous and you can't say hi _

Crowley set the angel’s hands back on her waist, then pushed them down to her sharp hip bones, stepping closer to him, the most endearing evil grin on those pink lips.

“I think I need a drink,” Aziraphale choked out, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“F’course, angel.” Crowley took his hand in hers and led him back to the bar. As they walked, Crowley caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and smiled.

“These heavenly colors are certainly not my style, but I have to say, it’s not bad.” 

“You look lovely, my dear.” Aziraphale looked away, blushing as they sat side by side.

“Can I ask you something?” She smirked at him, placing her hand on his knee and leaning in. He could feel the tingle of her warm breath against his face.

“Always, my dear.” He fought to keep his voice steady.

“Do you know why I chose this particular shade of blue?” she whispered.

Aziraphale shook his head slightly.

“I wanted to match your eyes.” 

She pressed her lips to his cheek, lingered for a moment, then disappeared into the crowd.


	22. Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WIVES!!!

Crowley groaned and swung her legs out of bed, grabbing the crimson robe from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around herself. She yawned as she stood, tying the belt around her slim middle as she walked. She descended the stairs, running a hand through her long red hair, which was trailing down to her waist in loose curls. 

“Is that you, love?”

Crowley froze. It was Aziraphale, of that there was no question, but it wasn’t the angel’s usual tone. It was softer, a bit higher, and Crowley’s face cracked into a wide grin.

“It’s me. G’morning angel.” Crowley sauntered over to where Aizraphale was sitting at the desk and wrapped her arms around the soft figure there. She buried her nose in angelic curls, which cascaded down to broad shoulders, a pale blue ribbon tied as a headband. Crowley’s fingers traced along Aziraphale’s shoulder and up the soft neck, flicking gently at an earlobe, eliciting a yelp.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale turned to scold her, but instead of being angry, she looked adoringly at the demon. “I see we’re a matching set today.”

“We always are,” Crowley slithered around to curl up in Aziraphale’s lap, wrapping her arms around her waist and laying her head against her shoulder.

“Quite right, my dear.” Aziraphale chuckled against Crowley’s unruly hair.

“I like the outfit,” Crowley murmured, running her finger along the tartan pattern of Aziraphale’s skirt, “though the tartan is a bit much.” A smirk played on her lips as she pressed them to the angel’s cheek, which warmed under her attention.

“Tartan is _ stylish _!” The angel tutted, wrapping her arms around Crowley and pulling her closer. 

“Is not, but I’m not complaining.” Crowley settled against Aziraphale’s chest, which was a bit of a new sensation, but it was wonderful. Though different, it was still the same soft, warm angel. “What inspired this?”

“Thought a change would be nice,” Aziraphale carded her fingers through the curls at Crowley’s waist, tugging her way gently through the knots there.

“S’very nice.” Crowley’s hands ran up and down the angel’s soft new form, feeling the same round stomach below the now tapered waist, and soft chest, the perfect pillow for Crowley’s still sleep-heavy head.

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale hummed happily. “I rather thought you’d like it.”

“I doooo,” Crowley drawled quietly. “So warm. So soft. Never change that,” Crowley continued trailing her fingers lightly over Aziraphale’s side.

Aziraphale sighed and Crowley could sense a darkness in it.

“What’s wrong, dove?” she asked, shifting back, and placing her hand against the angel’s cheek.

“Nothing, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled, her rosy cheeks lifting, but no light reaching her eyes.

“Talk to me,” Crowley’s yellow eyes pierced into the angel, causing a blush. Aziraphale looked down, taking the demon’s hand in hers.

“I am soft,” was the quiet reply.

“Yes, and?” Crowley prodded.

“You think that’s beautiful.” Aziraphale’s words hung like a question.

“You know I do.” Crowley carded her fingers through her blonde curls.

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale’s eyes flickered up to Crowley’s, wide and pleading, full of disbelief and hope.

“Oh, my dove, you’re gorgeous, absolutely stunning. You’re perfect the way you are. You can shift to look however you want, whenever you want, but please, _ please, _ don’t ever think you have to change in order to be beautiful. You’re beautiful no matter what.”

Tears were slowly falling down Aziraphale’s round cheeks.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley guided the angel’s head to rest against her shoulder. “I love you. I love that you’re curved and soft where I’m sharp and lean. I love that we fit together perfectly. I love that you’re thick and study against me and that you ground me. You’re my anchor, my earth, my universe and I wouldn’t want you to be anything less than what you are. I want you, the whole you. I need you to know that I never want you to be less, to be smaller, to be quieter, to hold back any part of yourself.”

Aziraphale was sobbing now, soaking through Crowley’s thin robe. 

“Did I make you doubt?” Crowley whispered.

“Oh no!” Aziraphale’s head shot up, her red eyes apologetic. “Never!” She cupped Crowley’s cheek in her hand. “Forgive me, my love. I was just struck by how beautiful you are. You are so entirely perfect and you take my breath away. I was worried that I couldn’t measure up.”

“Oh, _ angel _!” Crowley smiled and Aziraphale’s breath escaped her. “It’s no contest. You’re heavenly.” She kissed the angel’s cheek. 

“Divine.” _Kiss_. 

“Angelic.” _Kiss_. 

“Radiant.” _Kiss_.

“Breathtaking.” _Kiss_.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered as Crowley’s lips reached hers. Crowley’s fingers ran across every part of the angel that she could reach as they kissed, pouring love into each touch.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Crowley asked breathlessly as they separated.

“Anything, my love.” Aziraphale looked at her, dazed and smiling.

“Sometimes I wish I looked more like you.”

“WHAT?” Aziraphale’s jaw dropped.

“It’s true. There are times I wish I wasn’t so pointy and well…” she waved a long arm around wildly to illustrate her point. “Sometimes I wish I was soft like you.”

“Oh _ no _!” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in distress. “Darling, you know I’ve always adored your form. I think it suits you perfectly!”

“I know, angel,” Crowley chuckled, “and I feel the same way about you. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale’s brow unknitted and she nodded slowly.

“So, no more of this. Only happiness today.” Crowley slid off Aziraphale’s lap, who protested with a whine. “Don’t worry, angel, we’re not done. Just need somewhere more comfortable.”

Crowley’s arms wrapped around the angel’s waist and looped under her knees, scooping her up and carrying her over to the couch. Crowley settled them down, pulling the tartan blanket over them as they wrapped themselves in each other’s arms.

“I’ve never doubted you, Crowley. You must know that.” Aziraphale murmured against Crowley’s cheek.

“I know, dove.”

“It’s me I doubt.’

“I know.”

“I’m trying to trust myself, but sometimes I need some help.’

“I know. You’re doing very well, my love.”

“Thank you, darling.”

They lay together in silence for a while, just holding each other, happily drowning in the waves of love that were crashing over them.


	23. He could really do weird things with his tongue

Aziraphale had noticed it many years ago. In Rome.

They were in Petronius’ restaurant, the warm glow of sunset casting a golden hue over everything, including Crowley’s red curls. Aziraphale wished they were longer, like they were when they met, instead of cropped, but the way the sun gleamed against the auburn coils was nothing short of heavenly.

“You really must try one, at least.” Aziraphale insisted, holding an oyster out to his companion.

“Looks awful,” Crowley’s nose crinkled.

“Please. Just one.” Aziraphale stretched his arm further, his eyes wide and inviting

“Fine, one.” The angel knew that yellow eyes were being rolled behind the dark lenses he now wore, but the demon leaned in anyway.

His tongue flicked out once, swiftly, tasting, then retreated. Crowley took a breath and the tongue appeared again, long and forked, twisting around the meat, and sliding it into his mouth, this throat moving as he swallowed it down.

Aziraphale felt like he had been thrown into boiling water. His mouth was dry, his tongue felt swollen, his heart was racing in his chest, and his vision went fuzzy for a moment. 

“You okay, angel?” Crowley watched him carefully.

“Of course!” He squeaked out, pulling his hand back into his lap, dropping the empty shell onto the platter on its retreat. “How was it?” 

“S’alright.” Crowley wasn’t satisfied with the angel’s answer, one eyebrow raised above his glasses, but let the matter drop.

The next was shortly after a trip to Edinburgh. 

Aziraphale was standing in the back of a full house at the Globe, beaming at the audience as they reacted to the play before them.

“How was Scotland?” A familiar voice spoke from just behind his shoulder.

“Oh, Crowley! This is wonderful! How did you do it?” Aziraphale was glowing as he looked up at the demon.

“Angel, dim the lights, will you?” Crowley glanced around, but no one had noticed, too enraptured by the actors on stage.

“Apologies,” Aziraphale looked sheepishly up at Crowley. “Scotland was as grand as expected," he answered dryly, then smiled. "Managed the horse, though.”

“Well done,” Crowley smirked.

“Grape, dear?” Aziraphale offered a sweet green grape from the vine in his hand.

“Why not? Grape now, wine later?” he offered.

“Sounds lovely!” Aziraphale smiled again, raising the grape to Crowley, but was bumped by someone applauding next to him. The grape flew from his fingers, flying toward the demon. It was caught by Crowley’s tongue, darting out between thin lips and curling around the grape in midair before pulling it into his mouth. He tipped his head down to wink at the angel before turning his attention to the stage.

Aziraphale was blushing all the way down to his toes, he was sure of it. 

While enjoying _ proper _ crepes in France, Aziraphale was positive that was going to discorporate on the spot. 

He was chatting away between delicious bites of pastry and cream while Crowley sipped his wine. 

“Were they worth it, angel?” Crowley inquired, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Most definitely! And you’re here to enjoy them with me, which is a nice surprise.” Aziraphale’s cheeks were turning pink, but he didn’t care. “Try one, won’t you?”

“Nah, I’m good with just wine.” Crowley took another sip.

“You should know what you broke me out of the Bastille for!” Aziraphale’s lips fell into a pout, his eyes wide and sad.

“I’d think you wouldn’t want to share, after all the trouble you went through to get them,” Crowley teased.

“I would happily share them with my savio--” he cut himself off before Crowley could, “well, with you.”

Crowley relaxed, with a small smile on his lips.

“I guess I could try a little.” 

“Please do!” Aziraphale held a forkful out to him, but Crowley had a different idea.

He leaned over the table, ignoring the fork. and dragged his finger across Aziraphale’s chin, scooping up a bit of cream left there and held it in front of his own mouth, letting his tongue drag over it, licking it clean.

Aziraphale forgot how to speak for a solid three minutes.

All of these memories came crashing over Aziraphale as they sat in the ice cream parlor on this crisp winter day. They had been enjoying a stroll after lunch and the angel had not been able to resist stopping into this adorable little spot for dessert.

Aziraphale had ordered a large sundae for them to share, smothered with hot fudge and topped with sprinkles, nuts, and a cherry.

As usual, Crowley was watching Aziraphale instead of joining him.

“Dear, please have a bite. I ordered it for both of us.” Aziraphale pushed the bowl closer to Crowley.

“You know I don’t eat much, angel,” Crowley shook his head, smiling.

“Oh, please. I like it when you eat with me. Just a bite?” Aziraphale gestured to the sundae. 

Crowley shrugged and plucked the cherry from a mountain of whipped cream and popped it into his mouth, stem and all.

Aziraphale’s jaw nearly unhinged as he watched Crowley’s do the very same, shifting as he separated cherry from stem.

After a moment Crowley let his forked tongue peek through his smirking lips, revealing a perfectly tied cherry stem.

“_ Crowley _,” Aziraphale attempted to scold, but it only sounded impressed.

“Just a trick I picked up a while ago,” Crowley puffed his chest as he plucked the stem from his tongue and held it up like a trophy.

“We’re going.” Aziraphale stated, standing.

“But you haven’t-”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and grabbed Crowley, crashing their lips together.

“Azira- ah!” Crowley moaned against his lips. “What?”

“You’ve been tempting me with that tongue of yours since Rome. I insist you use it on me right now!” Aziraphale’s expression was measured, commanding, but his eyes revealed his desperation.

“Oh, angel, _ gladly _!” Crowley purred and shifted Aziraphale’s chin to kiss him more deeply. “What about your sundae?”

“Oh, wily serpent, don’t worry about that!” Aziraphale huffed against Crowley’s lips, capturing them again.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the sundae appeared on Aziraphale’s desk, ensuring that the ice cream wouldn’t melt and the hot fudge wouldn’t grow cold. Sitting on top of the mountain of whipped cream sat three cherries. Just in case.


	24. Love Potion

“Oh, thank you!” Aziraphale took the steaming cup of cocoa from Crowley’s offered hand.

“Thought you might need it. You’ve been reading for eight hours.” Crowley laid himself over the couch, his glasses long gone, and stared at his angel in open admiration.

Aziraphale sipped the cocoa and wiggled happily in his chair.

“It’s perfect, dear.” He beamed at him, then returned to his book.

“How much longer?” Crowley asked, dragging his fingers through the fringe of the throw pillow.

“Perhaps an hour more? I’m nearly done.” Aziraphale’s eyes didn’t leave the page.

“An hour, really?” Crowley replied suspiciously.

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed slightly, but didn’t remove his attention from the book, his eyes flicking across the page.

“You might want to read faster than that, angel. That is, if you want to finish your book before it kicks in.” Crowley smirked and Aziraphale gave in, setting his book down.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just finish your book.” Crowley flashed him a devilish grin and flopped onto his back, pulling out his phone and scrolling.

Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at Crowley for a moment before settling back into his chair to read and enjoy his cocoa.

After fifteen minutes he began to feel peculiar. He waved his hand to open a window, thinking some fresh air might help.

After half an hour his heart was racing and sweat was forming on his brow. He loosened his bowtie and took a few deep breaths.

After 45 minutes his head was spinning.

“Something wrong, angel?” Crowley asked, casting him a side glance.

“Oh yes. Everything’s tickety-boo. No need to worry.” Aziraphale gripped the edge of the desk, his head lowered and his eyes closed.

“Don’t look tickety-boo,” Crowley over enunciated with a smirk.

“I’ll be fine, just need a moment.” Aziraphale assured, still unable to open his eyes.

“You sure?” 

Aziraphale could hear Crowley shift on the couch and guessed that he was now sitting up, watching him, most likely with a wide smile and the implications washed over Aziraphale, making his head spin yet again.

“You put something in the cocoa, didn’t you?”

“Now, why would you say that?” Crowley purred.

“What did you do, Crowley?” Aziraphale exclaimed, clutching at his chest, where his heart was still racing.

“Shh, it’s alright, angel.” Crowley was now standing behind him, rubbing his back. “It’s very easy to fix all this. You just have to figure it out.”

“Figure it out how? I can’t move! I can’t even open my eyes!” Aziraphale cried, still gripping the desk for support.

“Try,” Crowley encouraged. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“My heart is racing, pounding. I’m lightheaded, my eyes can’t focus, I feel weak and shaky, it’s awful!” Aziraphale slowly pushed himself to sit up straight, eyes still closed.

“Breathe,” Crowley comforted, still rubbing his back.

Aziraphale inclined his head in a small nod and began to inhale deeply, the soft curve of his stomach inflating and deflating with each breath.

“Better, dove?” 

“A bit, yes.” Aziraphale replied, relieved.

“Now tell me how you’re feeling.” Crowley’s hands never stopped moving along Aziraphale’s back and shoulders.

“My heart is still racing, but my head feels more clear.”

“Can you open your eyes?”

Aziraphale cracked one eye open and closed it immediately. He shook his head.

“It’s okay, just breathe.” 

Aziraphale took another few deep breaths, then felt Crowley step away.

He immediately slumped forward over his knees, clutching at his head.

“What did you do, Crowley!” he demanded in gasping breaths.

“I’m so sorry, angel!” Crowley was kneeling in front of Aziraphale, his hands cupping the angel’s face and the pain began to melt away. “I saw it in a book. I didn’t know it was going to do this! If I had known I wouldn’t have... “

Aziraphale blinked as the pain began to subside, warmth spreading from where Crowley's skin touched his. His eyes met Crowley’s, which were full of regret. The angel’s head cleared and his heart slowed.

“What is it?” he asked, leaning into Crowley’s hands.

Crowley mumbled something, his eyes dropping.

“What?”

“Love potion!” Crowley snapped, still avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze.

“Love potion?” Aziraphale sat up and felt dizzy at the loss of Crowley’s touch.

“Yes! It was in one of your dumb books. Thought it would be funny. Or interesting. For science or whatever. I didn’t know it was going to hurt you!” Crowley slumped, staring into his lap.

“Oh, Crowley. You do know that you don’t need to use a love potion on me, don’t you?” Aziraphale ungracefully slid out of the chair to sit in front of Crowley. His head spun as he moved, but eased as he reached out and took Crowley’s hands in his.

“Yeah,” Crowley muttered.

“Why did you?” 

Crowley looked up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. There was no anger, only an openness and love, a hope to understand.

“You were reading all day. Missed you.” Crowley shrugged and glanced away.

“Oh, love! You don’t need a love potion to get my attention. All you have to do is ask!” Aziraphale smiled softly at him.

“I- but- okay.” Crowley looked resigned.

“What is it, my dear?” Aziraphale shuffled closer, running his hand along Crowley’s arms.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” Aziraphale softly lifted Crowley’s chin, so they were once again eye-to-eye.

“I’ve made you feel bad enough.”

“Darling, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s bothering you.” Aziraphale ran his thumb over the sharp planes of Crowley’s cheekbones.

“Sometimes I don’t want to ask,” he mumbled. He watched as the realization crossed Aziraphale’s face, his eyes growing wide before his expression crumbled.

“Oh, Crowley! I’m so sorry! I should have known! How selfish of me!” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley and pulled him against his chest. “Please forgive me, my love.”

“Nothing to forgive, angel.”

“There most certainly is!” Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I have made you feel neglected when I should have anticipated your needs!” Aziraphale’s arms were strong and supportive around Crowley, but the demon could feel the guilt and shame in his angelic heart.

“No, no. Please, don’t.” Crowley shifted back to run his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair and down his cheek. “It’s not your fault. You got lost in the book, it happens. I’m not mad, angel. It’s just hard for me to ask sometimes.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but you are so kind to me.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “I will try to limit my reading time and check in with you more. Would that help, my love?”

“Yeah. I’ll try to ask for stuff instead of making strange potions out of old books.” Crowley chuckled, pecking Aziraphale on the cheek.

“That seems like a very reasonable compromise for us to work on. But for now, I do believe that I’ve been given a love potion and I’m afraid I have no choice but to be completely over the moon for a devilishly handsome demon.” Aziraphale smirked, a glimmer twinkling in his eye.

“Oh, s’that so? Maybe you should do something about that.” Crowley relaxed, resuming his casual pose.

“Oh, I think I will.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley roughly back toward him and pressed their lips together. 

He refused to let go until the last of the potion left his system.


	25. Promises

“It _ won’t _ rain, angel.” Crowley rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of the heavy grey clouds overhead.

“I should think it’s too warm to snow,” Aziraphale’s fingers pulled at his waistcoat. 

“It’s not going to snow either. It’s not going to _ do _ anything. Now can we talk about something else?” Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked. “Anything else?”

“Dear, you act like we’ve been talking about the weather all day!” Aziraphale tutted.

“It feels like we have!” Crowley groaned.

"Enough of that!" Aziraphale pulled on Crowley’s arm, leading him down a small, empty, street. “Darling, why are you so grumpy today?” 

“I am not grumpy!_ I - gah - nkg_! Demons don’t get _ grumpy _!” he stomped around as he spoke, keeping his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

“I’m not sure of that, but you certainly are right now!” Aziraphale placed his hands on his hips and gave Crowley a stern look.

“Look, angel, you’re not my _ mum_, I don’t have to have a reason or explain it to you!” Crowley growled, carefully avoiding looking at Aziraphale. “You don’t always get to know the answers, okay? So JUST SHUT UP!”

Aziraphale gasped softly as Crowley crumpled to the ground.

“Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Aziraphale was frozen to the spot. He wrung his hands, hands that longed to reach out to Crowley, to close the distance and hold him close, but he let the demon have his space.

“NO! STOP!” Crowley bellowed. He sat on the ground, knees up with elbows resting on them. His hands squeezed his head and pulled at his hair. “You don’t get to be nice right now! You don’t get to apologize!”

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“No! No _ darling_, no _ love_, no _ dear _ ! Just **_ STOP_**!” Crowley threw back his head, his arms stretched out to his sides and there was a sudden stillness. 

The sounds of London traffic were gone, the grey clouds disappeared. There was light and peace, the trace of a breeze, and a gentle rustle of feathers.

Crowley’s wings were wrapped around him, cocooning him in darkness. Aziraphale’s wings had also appeared, stretched out to his sides, but curving gently toward Crowley, guiding him forward.

“Crowley. Please let me in.” Aziraphale kneeled, gently running his fingertips over the feathers. “Help me understand. I just want to help you.”

“I know,” Crowley’s voice was strained.

“Will you let me?” the angel settled back on his heels and waited until Crowley finally shifted his wings to let him in.

Crowley’s glasses were gone, his exposed eyes wet and puffy, his face covered with tears and red patches.

“M’sorry, angel,” he choked out, his throat still tight from crying.

“Talk to me. Please.” Aziraphale shifted up and crawled closer to Crowley, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to be able to hear Crowley’s soft, tear-wrecked voice.

“S’love.”

“Love? Did I do something wrong? Do you not know how much I love you?” Aziraphale quickly shuffled through his memory, searching for something to explain the demon’s erratic behavior, but found none. Then his stomach dropped. Perhaps it wasn’t something he had done, perhaps it was something that had ceased. 

“Or have you stopped loving me?”

“No! Angel, no! Never!” Crowley’s head shot up and he reached out for Aziraphale, who was just out of his reach. He scrambled over himself and took the angel’s hand in his. “It’s not that.”

“Then what, my love?” Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek, assured of his need for touch, for reassurance.

“I love you so much, Aziraphale. More than I even understand. It’s never-ending and powerful and sometimes it’s too much.” Crowley placed his hand over Aziraphale’s, holding it against his cheek, his eyes closed.

“Too much?”

“Demon’s aren’t supposed to love! We’re not supposed to have love to give and we’re certainly not supposed to _ receive _ love! It’s part of the whole demon thing! Cut off from love.” He sobbed into Aziraphale’s hands, which he had lifted to his face.

“Ah,” Aziraphale breathed, understanding. “I’m not your mum. That’s what it was about.” He shifted down, carefully wrapping his arms around Crowley, moving slowly so as not to get tangled in his wings. “My dear, you know you are loved, don’t you?”

Crowley sobbed against Aziraphale’s chest.

“You have always been loved. As you said, you didn’t really fall.” Aziraphale smiled against Crowley’s red hair. “Forgive me for saying this, but I think this was all part of the ineffable plan. If you had stayed in Heaven we may not have ever met, the earth might not still be here, we wouldn’t be together. As much as you felt the very moment you were cut off from her love, she still sent it to you, just in an unexpected way. She gave you humanity, she gave you earth, she gave you me.” Aziraphale guided Crowley’s head back up to meet his eyes. “She gave you to me.”

Crowley clutched at Aziraphale’s waistcoat, his face contorted in sobs, but his eyes were full of love, the hint of a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“Crowley, you’re right. Demons can’t love.” 

Crowley’s face crumpled in confusion and pain and Aziraphale rushed to complete his thought.

“But you’re not a demon! And I’m not an angel, not really. We’re something different, something new, something neither Heaven or Hell know how to classify, so they tried to control us, but we weren’t made for them. She made us for each other, for the earth, for humanity.”

“_Aziraphale _,” Crowley leaned in and pressed his face against a cream-wrapped shoulder.

“Shhh, love.” Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s back. “I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling this way.”

“S’not your fault.” Crowley shifted his face to press a wet kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” 

There was a sudden rustle of feathers and Crowley’s wings were tucked against his back.

“No need to apologize, darling. I just wish you had been able to talk about this sooner.” Aziraphale placed a kiss on Crowley’s forehead.

“I didn’t want you to think you weren’t enough.” Crowley ran his fingers along the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat, tracing the patterns.

“Crowley, I am not so fragile.” Aziraphale cooed, scooping his love into his lap and cradling him. “I’d hoped that by now you would have realized that I would do absolutely anything for you, but I can’t help you if you shut me out and keep me in the dark.”

“I know. Thought I could handle it on my own.” Crowley rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling.

“You are capable of doing so, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“What if I’m too much for you?” Crowley’s voice cracked.

“Oh, my love, that will never happen. I have loved you for thousands of years and I will love you for millions more, I promise you.” Aziraphale pressed gentle kisses down Crowley’s face until he captured his lips, gentle reassurances of his love and eternal devotion.

“I love you, angel.” Crowley breathed when they parted, his yellow eyes finally hopeful.

“I love you, my dearest Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled brightly.

“Was that you?” Crowley sat back and was staring up at the sky behind the angel. 

Aziraphale turned and saw a bright rainbow painted bright across the clear sky.

“I suppose it must have been. It was a sign of a promise before, remember?”

Crowley nodded.

“Seems rather fitting,” Aziraphale mused.

“We should probably get back. Lunch?” Crowley stood and offered his hand to the angel.

“Sounds lovely.”

Crowley helped him to his feet and snaked his arms around the angel’s waist, holding him so close that they could feel the other’s heartbeat against his own chest.

“I promise, too, angel.”


	26. Love Song

The wind howled outside the window and Crowley shivered into the tartan blanket he was currently cocooned in. Aziraphale was settled next to him, one arm draped around Crowley’s shoulder, the other held his white winged mug, his attention somewhere deep in his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts, angel?” Crowley lay his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, pulling him back to the present.

“Sorry, dear, I’m afraid I was back in 1941.” He chuckled to himself, ruffling Crowley’s hair.

“Any particular reason?” Crowley swatted at Aziraphale’s hand and tried to fix his hair, but gave up when the air was too cold on his exposed fingers.

“It had been an awfully long time since I’d last seen you.” Aziraphale’s tone was far-off and dreamy, once again back in time. “You saved my books and offered me a lift here. I invited you in for wine. Quite a few bottles, if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” Crowley laughed. “I think we were entitled - we had just survived a bombing.”

“True,” Aziraphale chuckled, then grew pensive. “What do you remember about that night?”

“Drinking, obviously. We talked a lot. Didn’t talk about the argument. Good thing, too. I didn’t want to fight again. I had missed you.” Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s touch as he absentmindedly carded through his red hair.

“I had missed you so terribly. I had been so afraid of you finding another way to get the holy water. I had too many visions of you being destroyed by it. That you would be lost to me. I was so relieved to see you walk, well not quite walk, into the church.”

“I was glad to see you, too, angel. Thought I might’ve been too late, that you would’ve gotten yourself discorporated already.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Aziraphale’s eyes were cloudy, unfocused.

“I remember how you kept the books near you that whole night. Next to you, under your chair, on top of the desk. Just close.” Crowley closed his eyes, recreating the scene in his mind.

“Anything else?”

“No. Should there be?” Crowley shook his head.

“I remember there was music.”

“What music?”

“Here, at the shop. I put on a record. Wanted to ask you to dance. Tried a few times, but I couldn’t get the words out.”

“You wanted to dance with me?” Crowley sat up awkwardly, still wrapped in the blanket.

“Oh, yes. That was the night I finally put a name to what I had been feeling for you. I was rather a mess, I’m afraid. Would you have danced with me then?”

“Of course.” Crowley’s expression was incredulous.

“Even after what I said? Fraternizing?” Aziraphale’s eyes turned grey at the memory.

“Yes, angel. Anytime.” 

A small smile played at Aziraphale’s lips at that, but didn't pull him back to Crowley completely.

“What song?” Crowley asked.

“Moonlight Serenade. I played it on repeat for an hour, hoping to work up the courage to finally ask you, but never did.” Aziraphale chuckled. “You didn’t seem to notice that the music never changed.”

“I must’ve been really drunk.” Crowley shrugged, grinning. He had noticed, he had hoped that, given enough time, the angel would find the guts to ask. “Nice song though.”

“I tried again, you know. After the war.”

“I didn’t know.”

“There was another song. It made me think of you. Of us. I wanted to share it with you.”

“You still could, you know. Right now.”

That broke the spell. Aziraphale turned his soft blue eyes to Crowley’s yellow.

“Oh, really?” he was almost glowing with adoration. "It's not too late?"

“All you have to do is ask, angel.” Crowley shifted out of the blanket.

“Crowley, dear, would you dance with me?” Aziraphale stood and offered a hand to his love, who took it with a smile.

“Always.”

Aziraphale led him away from the couch and waved his hand. The gramophone clicked, spun, and crackled as the first notes of brass filled the air. 

Crowley placed a hand around Aziraphale’s waist, taking the angel’s hand in his free one. Aziraphale wound his free arm around Crowley’s shoulder as they swayed together.

_ Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again _ _  
_ _ It's been a long, long time _

“Wait, this isn’t right.” Crowley snapped his fingers and Aziraphale gasped as he watched Crowley’s clothes shift before his eyes. His skinny jeans, shirt, and jacket melted into a well-tailored suit - black with subtle stripes, double breasted. Under the jacket he wore a dusty blue shirt and red necktie. A wide-brimmed fedora sat atop his head. “Better.” He smirked, seeing a loving smile bloom on the angel’s face as he remembered this ensemble from that day at the church.

_ Haven't felt like this, my dear since I can't remember when _ _  
_ _ It's been a long, long time _

_  
_“It had been a long, long time,” Crowley mused as they circled slowly.

“Of course there had been times where we’d gone longer without seeing each other, but that stretch of years felt almost eternal.” Aziraphale spoke softly, his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

_ You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you _ _  
_ _ Or just how empty they all seemed without you _

“Did you dream of me?” Crowley asked.

“Only nightmares.”

Crowley held him tighter.

_ So kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again _ _  
_ _ It's been a long, long time _

“Would you have kissed me then?” Crowley’s words were pressed to golden curls.

“I didn’t have the nerve to even ask you to dance, my dear!” Aziraphale laughed, full and clear and beautiful.

“Would you have let me kiss you? The song does suggest it.”

They stopped dancing, stepping apart just enough to see the other’s face, arms firmly planted against each other, an anchor.

“I - “ Aziraphale started, then words failed.

“S’okay, angel.”

“I wanted you to. More than anything. And that frightened me.” Aziraphale confessed.

“You wouldn’t object if I were to do it now, would you? No sense in trying to change the past, but we can make up for it now.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer by his waist.

“Please do,” Aziraphale breathed, his eyes fluttering closed.

So Crowley did.

He kissed him once.

He kissed him twice.

He kissed him once again.


	27. All This Time

“What would you say to some travelling?” Crowley was staring at the lovely blue of Aziraphale’s eyes across the table of his favorite sushi restaurant.

Aziraphale froze. “Travelling?” He asked, chopsticks stopping halfway to his mouth.

He had been recounting a tale of the rude customer that had nearly dog-eared a first edition Wilde that morning, mid-sentence when the demon spoke.

“Yeah. Just a thought. Don’t have to.” Crowley sat up, misinterpreting Aziraphale’s reaction.

“Oh, no, that sounds lovely, dear! You just surprised me.” The angel smiled sweetly at his partner. “Did you have someplace in mind?”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of a surprise. S’that okay?” Crowley suddenly seemed so unsure of himself.

Aziraphale secretly loved the moments where Crowley reached out like this - with something sweet and new. The moments where he second guessed, where he had to work upthe courage to mention something or to ask the question he'd been trying to get out for hours, maybe even days or weeks. He was overjoyed that after 6000 years, they could still surprise each other, still find uncharted territory, still find pleasure in new things.

“A surprise?” Aziraphale’s eyes glittered and he wiggled delightedly in his seat. “Of course that’s okay! You know that I trust you completely.” He reached over the table and placed his hand over Crowley’s.

“Yeah, good. Next weekend?” A light blush was creeping across the demon’s cheeks, which made Aziraphale smile in that crinkly-eyed way that made Crowley’s heart race.

“Sounds perfect.”

The next weekend Crowley and Aziraphale settled into the Bentley for the trip to the airport.

“I don’t mean to ruin this, but how am I to get there without knowing where we’re going? There will be signs, announcements, and it’ll be printed on the tickets.” Aziraphale wrung his hands in his lap. He was looking forward to finding out the answer to their mysterious destination, but was enjoying the anticipation, the guessing, the sly smile on Crowley’s face as he relished knowing something the angel didn’t.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all sorted.” Crowley winked and took Aziraphale’s hand in his.

Aziraphale didn’t have to wait long to find out what Crowley had meant by that. He had somehow miracled the entire airport so that every time someone spoke the name of their destination or Aziraphale laid eyes on its name in type it was changed to “London”.

The tickets were printed from London to London, when their flight was called the peppy woman called for passengers London.

“Clever,” Aziraphale mused as he held his boarding pass to the woman.

“Thank you, angel. Now you gotta promise not to look out the window on the plane. And I’m afraid once we arrive you can’t look around at all.” Crowley was smirking again.

“Please don’t tell me I have to wear a blindfold!” 

Crowley laughed at the horrorstruck expression on the angel’s face.

“Only if you want to. I did get one in tartan, just in case.” Crowley shrugged one shoulder to call attention to his carry on bag that was slung over it. “Up to you, angel.”

“Won’t that look suspicious?” Aziraphale asked, settling into his seat.

“Humans won’t notice, only the two of us. What do you think?” Crowley slumped into his seat.

“Alright,” Aziraphale nodded.

“Really? I thought it’d take a lot more convincing than that.” Crowley blinked in surprise.

“Oh, I haven’t ruined it have I?” Aziraphale’s hands fluttered to his lap, but Crowley grabbed them in one of his before they could wring themselves.

“Not at all. It’s nice to see how much you trust me.” He ran his fingertips against Aziraphale’s cheek, then lifted his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“How much longer, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. He was trying to sound peppy, but he was tired. He had been blindfolded a few hours now, during which Crowley kept reminding him to act like he could see, otherwise he would call attention to them as the angel stumbled through the airport. Crowley had done his best, holding his hand, guiding him with an arm around his waist, but the angel was nearly useless without his sight. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they were safely seated in the taxi.

“Not much longer, dove. You’ve been wonderful. I think it will be worth it.” A note of worry played in Crowley’s voice and Aziraphale jumped to reassure him.

“I’m sure it will be! I am quite looking forward to seeing where you’ve whisked me away to. It’s all quite romantic, you know!” Aziraphale settled his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aziraphale knew that Crowley had rolled his eyes, and couldn’t help but smile as the demon’s arm made its way around his shoulders.

“We’re almost there, just a little further.” Crowley had both of Aziraphale’s hands in his and was walking backwards, leading the angel to the perfect spot.

“You said that ten minutes ago!” Aziraphale pointed out with a smirk.

“What’s ten minutes when you’ve been alive over 6.000 years, angel?” Crowley dropped his hands.

“Fair point.” Aziraphale smiled. “Are we here?”

He felt Crowley step to his side and take a deep breath.

“Yeah, we’re here.” The demon reached up and pulled the blindfold from Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale gasped as he was nearly blinded by the light. The sun was bright and warm, but there was something more to this place, something ancient and lovely and full of love. It was pulsing around him as his eyes adjusted.

They stood on lush green grass, surrounded by trees, bushes, and flowers in a rainbow of colors. It smelled of clean air and plant life, thriving and joyful. The sky was a clear blue overhead and there were mountains standing tall, guarding this beautiful place. The whole place felt of love and nature, serene and perfect. Nearly paradise.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale sighed, eyes wide with wonder, soaking everything in. “It feels like Eden!”

He turned to face Crowley, who had a wide, lovesick, grin on his face.

“I thought so too. Saw pictures online and knew I had to take you here. Walk through the garden with you again.”

Aziraphale’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“You know, I wanted to. I wanted to spend every moment in the garden with you, feeling the warmth of the sun, seeing your smile. I wanted to reach out and take your hand, hold you in my arms, lay next to you in the grass.” Crowley was staring up at the mountain peaks, remembering their meeting on the wall that towered above the first garden. “I tried to make our own garden, but nothing compared to how beautiful you were, are.” Crowley reached up and removed his glasses, turning his attention to the angel. “ You were the most beautiful thing in Eden.”

Aziraphale collapsed into Crowley’s arms.

“How long have you been trying to find a new Eden?” Aziraphale’s voice was small, throat tight with tears.

“Since Eden.”

“All this time?” Aziraphale raised his head to gaze into those yellow eyes that he had first seen in serpent form.

“I just wanted one more day there, to spend with you.” Crowley held the angel’s face gently between his hands.

“Let us have it then.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and there was a ripple in the air that felt like electricity.

Aziraphale stood before him, draped in pure white robes, his hair glowing like a halo in the sunlight. Crowley felt the breeze running through his long curls, his dark robe fluttering around his ankles.

“Missing something, I think.” Crowley muttered with a wink. He stretched his wings out, catching the light and glistening in hints of purple, blue, and red among the black. “Your turn, angel.”

Azirphale was staring at Crowley, eyes wide, jaw dropped, blushing deeply. Crowley was overwhelmed by the powerful waves of love crashing over him.

“You’re stunning,” Aziraphale whispered, stepping closer to Crowley. He twined a red curl around his finger as he stared at the figure before him, head tilted to the side. “I love you so completely, Crowley. I will never truly understand why you have trusted me with your heart, but I am so entirely grateful for it and I promise to treasure it always.”

“_ Angel _,” Crowley fought back the tears stinging at his eyes and he drew Aziraphale to his chest. “You know I’ve loved you since that first day in the garden.”

“All this time,” Aziraphale whispered.

He smiled as he gazed over the beauty of the garden, their new Eden, a better Eden.

In this Eden, he was in Crowley’s arms.

Safe.

Free.

Loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this photo: https://www.holidayapartments.co.za/blog/travel-info/kirstenbosch-gardens-a-floral-domain


	28. I'm Yours

The day started off as most days often did - Aziraphale slid out of bed and busied himself in the bookshop, shelving, repairing, dusting, then settling down with a cup of hot tea and a copy of a book he’d been meaning to read (again) for some time.

It was overcast and gloomy outside, so Aziraphale draped a blanket over his shoulders as he read, sighing contentedly as he poured over the pages.

He paused his reading about halfway through the book, setting it down with a carefully placed bookmark, and headed to the library to open for the day.

He had hoped that the poor weather would keep most customers at home, but was disappointed to find a handful pop in throughout the dreary morning.

Crowley wandered downstairs shortly before noon, fully dressed, the glint in his eye visible even from behind his dark glasses. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and began pressing kisses to every available inch of skin. Aziraphale, taken by surprise, was unable to stop the gasp from escaping his lips as he leaned into Crowley’s touch. The group of teenagers that were checking out the Poe section were so uncomfortable that they ran out of the shop before things could progress.

When the door had closed and the bell signaled their departure, Crowley spun Aziraphale in his arms, to face him, and kissed him properly, knocking the wind out of the angel.

“I’ve got some things to do. I’ll see you later.” Crowley ducked in for one more kiss, then sauntered out of the shop, leaving a weak-kneed angel staring after him dreamily.

Aziraphale had been lucky that all of the customers that wandered into the shop were simply browsing and had no intention of buying any of his precious books, but the way they carelessly handled his beloved tomes was making him anxious.

He had just ushered out a particularly brutal handler, an older woman who didn’t seem to understand the importance of a gentle touch, when another customer walked in.

He was tall and slim, incredibly handsome, with sharp features and long red hair, braided along one half of his head, the other falling free around his shoulders. He wore all black, a t-shirt, a leather jacket, sleek boots, and the tightest skinny jeans he’d ever seen, which were ripped and faded in an incredibly fashionable way.

“Can I help you find something?” he asked, his voice steady and professional.

The customer crossed to Aziraphale, hips swaying as he walked.

“Depends on what’s available,” he smirked, lowering his glasses to give Aziraphale a once-over.

“I have quite a wide variety of books available.” Aziraphale swallowed hard, but kept a smile on his face. “Tell me, what interests you?”

“This feels like a trick question,” the man bit at his lip.

“Not at all, there is no judgement here!” Aziraphale’s hands came together at his waist as he began to circle the room, giving a tour to the man. “There’s poetry, plays, Shakespeare, classic British literature,” he gestured to the shelves as they passed. “If you prefer something a bit more contemporary, those will be over there.” He turned on his heel to gesture to the other side of the room and found himself chest to chest with the customer.

“Oh, I do apologize!” Aziraphale was frozen under the man’s gaze.

“Don’t.” The man took a step towards Aziraphale, driving him backwards. He repeated this motion until they were tucked into a quiet corner of the bookshop, Aziraphale’s back against a shelf. “I think I’ve found something I like.”

“H-have you?” Aziraphale stammered, his heart racing.

“You seem so clever, haven’t you figured it out by now?” the man leaned down until they were nose to nose.

“I would hate to assume anything,” Aziraphale choked out, his mouth now very dry.

“I like you.” The man whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down Aziraphale’s spine.

“Oh,” he sighed, then collected himself. “I’m afraid I’m spoken for.”

“That is a shame.” The man straightened up, but didn’t step away.

“It is. I mean, no! It isn’t!” Aziraphale cursed himself for his lapse. “He’s wonderful! But you wouldn’t like him very much if he were to find us this way.” Aziraphale tried to shift away from the customer, but he was pinned back by hands against his shoulders.

“That would only make it more fun, wouldn’t it?” the man pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s jawline.

“No! It wouldn’t be fun at all!” Aziraphale whimpered, recognizing his failure to prevent the man’s advances and realizing his inability to stop it.

“Don’t you think so?” The man moved down to Aziraphale’s neck, his lips hot against the soft skin there.  
“He’d be very upset. And he’s quite unpredictable when he’s upset. Heaven knows what he might do to you!” Aziraphale’s hands fisted in the man’s leather jacket, his head resting back against the shelves.

“I don’t think Heaven has anything to do with this.”

Aziraphale yelped as the man pulled the bow-tie loose, shifted the collar of his shirt and bit down on the exposed skin.

“Oh, please! We mustn’t!” Aziraphale mewled, pulling the man closer by his jacket.

“Why? Because you have someone?” He trailed kisses up Aziraphale’s jaw and cheek, stopping at his ear. “You must not love him very much, if I can do this to you.”

“Oh, no! I love him very dearly!” Aziraphale’s eyes shot open, the hands that had been pulling him close in desire, now held him there in anger. “He is my entire world and if he were to find us, we would destroy yours.”

“Then we can’t let him find us, can we?” The man smoothed the surprise from his face, running a hand down Aziraphale’s side, grabbing at his waist. “You get to choose who you belong to.”

The man kissed along Aziraphale’s nose, his forehead, his cheeks, pulling quiet moans and protests from the angel every time he narrowly avoided his lips.

“Who do you choose? Who do you belong to?” He continued his infuriating ministrations. Aziraphale tried to wrap his arms around the man’s shoulders, to guide him to his lips, but couldn’t. The man had pinned his hands to his sides, leaving Aziraphale powerless.

“You have to answer me.” He ducked away as Aziraphale shifted his head to try and meet the man’s lips, returning his to the soft rounds of the angel’s cheek. “If you say you’re his I’ll walk away right now and he doesn’t need to know about this. If you don’t answer, I’ll stay right here, but I won’t let you kiss me. He might find us, he might not. If you say you’re mine, I’ll be helpless to deny you anything you want. But it’s up to you. You have to make a decision eventually, why not make it now.” 

“I want you!” Aziraphale groaned.

“Are you sure?” the man pulled back to look into the angel’s eyes.

“Of course!” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the glasses disappeared, revealing yellow eyes. “I’m yours Crowley! I always have been. I always will be!” Aziraphale’s dazed smile and dreamy eyes were more than the demon could handle.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He whispered before capturing the angel’s lips with his own. He released Aziraphale’s hands, which immediately tangled in his hair, bringing him closer to the angel’s desperate lips.

“I like the new look, by the way,” Aziraphale panted against Crowley's cheek.

“M’glad, angel.” He held the angel for quite some time, kissing him very thoroughly, back pressed against the shelves. When he pulled away, he guided them to the floor and held Aziraphale in his lap. “What if it hadn’t been me?”

“What?” Aziraphale’s voice was still dreamy, but he was fighting to come back to reality, sensing the shift in his demon's mood.

“What if I hadn’t been me. What if I’d been some random customer. What would you have done?” Crowley’s eyes were cast down, picking at the zipper of his jacket.

“Nothing!” Aziraphale responded, recalculating when he saw Crowley’s eyes widen. “I mean, I wouldn’t have let him do anything. Nothing would have happened.”

“Not even if they pinned you against the shelves?” Crowley asked, his voice small.

“Crowley, I’m an angel. No human could ever hold me against my will.” He reached out and cupped Crowley’s chin, guiding it up to meet his gaze. “No other being in existence would be able to tempt me. It’s only you. I’m yours, Crowley.”

“You know I’m yours, too, right?” the demon’s eyes were full of love, his voice stronger now, reassured.

“I do, my love. Now, kiss me again, would you?” Aziraphale’s hand slid around to the back of Crowley’s neck.

“Now who’s doing the tempting?”


	29. Whatever you want (Valentine Vindication)

Aziraphale checked his calendar. Only a handful of months to Warlock’s fifth birthday. He swallowed hard, sinking into his chair. Time was running out and it was unclear whether or not the antichrist would bring about the end of the world or not.

Until then, he would try to make the most of his time here. He enjoyed seeing Warlock grow, answering his questions, sharing with him the angelic love of all creatures. Most of all, he enjoyed seeing Crowley daily. They often spent evenings together, sharing wine, slipping out for a late dinner, or strolling through the gardens around Brother Francis’ cottage.

His disguise hung on the hook by the door, at which there was a knock.

“One moment, if you will!” He called in the gardener’s rough accent, running to get into his disguise.

“Angel, it’s me,” replied a familiar voice. 

“Oh! Do come in!” he shuffled to the door and opened it, allowing Nanny Ashtoreth to slip inside. “Rough day, dear?” It was earlier than their usual meeting time, which delighted him. Perhaps this day was going to be something special after all.

She stomped across the room, shedding her hat, jacket, and heels as she went, throwing herself down on the sofa with a groan.

“Tea or wine?”

“Wine. At least four bottles.” There was a snap of fingers and the tight blouse and skirt shifted into a more comfortable shirt and pants. He relaxed, enjoying the comfort of the cottage, Azirpahale’s company, and the change of clothes.

“Very rough day, it would seem.” Aziraphale poured the wine and handed it to Crowley, who took a large gulp before settling back down.

"You could say that," he said quickly before diving back into his wine.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I have something that might improve your mood.” The angel blushed as he stared into his glass.

“Oh?” Crowley shifted up to lean against the arm of the couch, watching as Aziraphale disappeared into the small kitchen.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid. Just a little something.” He returned to the front room, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “I arranged them myself. They’re all from the gardens.” His cheeks were a deep pink as he handed them over to Crowley. 

He took them, noticing the red ribbon tied around the stems. They were lovely, bright, fragrant blooms. Crowley remembered lovely afternoons spent chatting beside the gardens, threatening each plant to blossom and thrive under Aziraphale’s care.

“T-thank you. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, it is a holiday of sorts. I thought maybe we could celebrate this year.” Aziraphale’s hands pulled at his waistcoat, his voice thin with a little bit of a wobble in it.

“Holiday? In February? I don’t remember a holiday in-“ he froze, realization dawning.

“I do believe you’ve figured it out,” Aziraphale gave a shy smile, which fell as Crowley hastily placed the bouquet on the side table.

_ “Valentine’s day _?” Crowley sat up.

“Well, it is a day of celebration, is it not?” Aziraphale was choosing his words carefully, afraid to drive the demon away.

“Yeah, for couples!” Crowley looked exasperated, waving his arms around for emphasis.

“Aren’t we a pair?” Aziraphale was growing hot under the collar, embarrassment rising.

“Romantic pairs, angel!” Crowley shot up to standing.

“It's a day to celebrate love. All kinds of love, right?" Aziraphale’s voice was small, his eyes dropping to study the rug. "Can’t we celebrate our friendship?”

“I guess, but it’s mostly just about sex now.” Crowley had stuffed his fists into his pockets.

“Sex?” Aziraphale squeaked.

“Yeah, angel! And here I thought you were clever!” He shuffled to the door.

"I don't understand! We spend nearly every evening together! How is this different?" Aziraphale was desperate.

"Because you got me flowers!" Crowley growled. "We can't do this, Aziraphale! Armageddon is only years away!"

"I know! That's why I thought we should celebrate now, before it's too late!" he begged.

"Ngk!" Crowley muttered and headed to the exit.

“Wait, where are you going?” Aziraphale threw out a hand towards him.

The only response was the slam of the door closing behind Crowley as he stalked out of the cottage and across the grounds.

Aziraphale stood, dazed, for many long minutes. He stared at the door, hoping that Crowley would return, that he would re-enter the cottage and laugh at his outburst, that they would pass the night with wine and tales of the Dowlings. He had hoped to hear what made Crowley's day so awful.

He sighed when he accepted that Crowley wasn’t going to return and set about to gather up Nanny’s discarded items from the floor and coffee table, placing them on the chair next to the door. He crossed to the couch, his hand hovering over the bouquet. He considered for a long moment, then tenderly lifted the bouquet and set it atop the pile of Crowley’s things, hoping that he would accept them still.

He left the bottles of wine on the coffee table, remaining unrealistically optimistic that his dear friend would return, and settled into his chair to read for the night.

The sky darkened and brightened again as he turned page after page, losing himself in the poetic words and lush scenery printed before him.

He startled when he heard a giant knocking not long after sunrise.

“Angel?” 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale set the book aside and hurried to the door. He pulled the door open a few inches, just enough to see the demon standing on the doormat, dressed in nanny attire, shoulders slumped, his head hanging low.

“M’sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to, well, I was surprised, is all.”

“I’m sorry, too, Crowley.” Aziraphale pushed the door open further, an invitation, but the demon didn’t move.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You did something... kind. It was nice that you wanted to celebrate… with me. So, here.” Crowley held out a gift box to Aziraphale.

“You didn’t have to bring anything, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled, stepping back to let Crowley in.

“I’ve got to get back to work. Just take it. Please.” He pushed the gift into Aziraphale’s hand and turned to go.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Aziraphale said softly, staring at the box in his hand.

“Thank you for giving me a place to come back to.” A whisper in his ear, a press of lips to a cheek, and Crowley was gone.

Aziraphale raised his fingertips to his cheek, a grin creeping over his face. He stepped inside and closed the door, leaning his back against it as he carefully lifted the lid off of the box in his hands.

Inside was a beautiful first edition book that Aziraphale would admire properly later, but his attention was on the note that rested atop its cover. He lifted it and read its slanted, scrawled script:

_ Angel, _

_ Let’s celebrate tonight. _

_ Your friend, _

_ Crowley _

Aziraphale pressed the note to his heart and smiled.


End file.
